


Of You and Him - One

by Filipa



Series: Geez, Kylo... [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017)
Genre: Almost-six-year-olds, American Road Trip, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Anasteemaphilia, Angst, BE SAFE KIDS, Babies, Being drenched in cum, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Body Exploration, Body Worship, Caregiver!Kylo, Cervical Orgasms, Characters who barely fucking speak, Children, Classical References, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come Swallowing, Come as Lube, Comeplay, Coping Mechanisms, Cratophilia, Cum Eating, Cum Marking, Cum Swallowing, Cumplay, Cunnilingus, Dead Languages, Defense Mechanisms, Depersonalization, Depression, Derealization, Dissociation, Dissociative Amnesia, Dom!Kylo, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Violence, Dominating!Kylo, Dubious Consent, Dysthymia, Edge Play, Edging, Educate yo'selves! It tastes good!, Español | Spanish, Existential Angst, Existential Crisis, Existential Nihilism, Existentialism, F/M, Fellatio, Financial Dicussion, Financial Issues, First Time, Five-year-olds that make you melt, Fluff, Foreign Language, French, French Language, Golden shower, Greek Mythology - Freeform, HOWEVER!, Humiliation, I am sorry for all the culture, I don't know where it will go, I want to die after typing all those relationship tags, I'll feel guilty, I'm Sorry, International Alphabet of Sanskrit Transliteration, Italian Language, Italiano | Italian, Japanese, Japanese Culture, Japanese language, Jealousy, Kendo, Lactation, Lactation Kink, Latin, Light Dom/sub, Look at it, Love, Macrophilia, Manhandling, Martial Arts, Masochism, Master & Servant, Master/Pet, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Mentions of the Classics, Minor Violence, Morning Sex, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Muscle Worship, Nah I'm not, Narratophilia, Nihilism, Nonsuicidal Self-Injury, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Olfactophilia, Omorashi, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Osphresiolagnia, Pain, Panic Attacks, Paraphilias, Peaking, Periodplay, Precious Treasures, Psychogenic Amnesia, Pygophilia, References to Drugs, Requited Love, Rimming, Road Trips, Roadtrips, Sadism, Salirophilia, Sapiosexuality, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Mutilation, Self-loath, Sexting, Sexual Addiction, Sexual Violence, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slow Masturbation, Snowballing, Soft Dick Play, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink, Squirting, Sthenolagnia, Strip Tease, Stripping, Submissive!OC, Submissive!Reader, Submissive!You, Suicidal Tendencies, Suicidal Thoughts, Surfing, They go outside, Twins, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love, Urolagnia, Urophilia, Verbal Humiliation, Violence, Watersports, aikido, blowjob, but it will all come out of this sick head of mine, but please don't re-enact shit without common sense, commonly and wrongly referred to as, cum as lube, dissociative disorder, dominant!Kylo, don't want to spoil anything but all these are possibilities, dub-con, gushing, hematolagnia, hypersexuality, if you're not into, jealous!kylo, ldrophrodisia, like they're an easy thing to achieve!, look at how disgusting the first chapter is, menophilia, parasomnia - Freeform, self-injury, spanish language, stick with me and you will learn stuff, striptease, sub!Reader, sub!oc, sub!you, that's why I sometimes leave silly and obvious (to me) advice on the notes, then don't read, this beast has life of its own, very lame, why don't we just spell it "cum" okay I'm gonna, will add tags as chapters are published
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 18:30:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 89
Words: 140,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7981768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filipa/pseuds/Filipa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This relationship isn't new. And you don't need labels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Consciousness

**Author's Note:**

> (The Triplet AU exclusively for Reader-insert was created by the Mods over at the Thirst Order Confessions' blog on Tumblr. <3  
> This is a shameless self-ship. Clearly not for everyone.  
> But I have to get these things out of my system.
> 
> No, no I don't. I want to keep them in.  
> Beth, thanks for the table tennis of HCs that triggered my will to write again and for being a princess.

You left the window open.

You left the goddamn window open.

That is all you brain can muster when you suddenly wake up, seven in the morning Summer sun hitting you in the face. And so you open one eye reluctantly, not because you don't want to, but because you simply can't, seeming spider webs weaving your eyelashes shut. Your breath quickens as your slumbering state dissipates and makes way to your constant grogginess.

And so you lift you head from the overly warm pillow, angry semblance towards the window as if it's its fault. You become too aware of the soaked skin of your neck, under your breasts and between your legs. As for your limbs, those are uncovered: half hanging out of the bed, half tugged underneath each other, sheet tangled around one ankle, the rest being hogged by him.

**_Him._ **

You turn your head around to the other side of the bed and there he is: a mass too big for your bed. You don't even know why he spends the night, he clearly cannot sleep comfortably. But then again, neither of you sleep. Nightmares, philosophical debates, sex, night terrors, audible and inaudible sobs, the kind that shake your whole body and make your head feel like it will indeed explode because you refuse to let them out... He doesn't say anything, you don't say anything. You are just there. All of this in the safety of the dark. Every night is spent in the exact same way with variations in order, combination and party.

And perhaps those are the reasons why it works. None of you demand anything, nor expect anything. Everything is accepted. Everything just is.

He has your key, you have his.

Gradually you turn your body towards the snoozing block of flesh that both consumes and heals you. You simply stare at his back, the deep soft breaths barely making his frame move. That mess of black hair splayed across your pillow.

Those fucking thirty-five-plus year old flowery pillow cases that belonged to your mother. You don't know how they're resisting, nor why you keep them. They don't match you. Guess it's the softness. The familiarity. Nah, probably just the commodity.

But they're there. With his sweat-shinny strands unconsciously settled on them, while the sunlight presents the smallest beads of perspiration formed at his nape, following the shallow trench of his spine surrounded by relaxed muscles that softly curve along the mattress.

He stirs.

His breath hitches mid-inhale.

He gently scratches at one, two vertebrae, smoothing his fingertips over a larger expanse following it.

He resumes his initial position for one, two, three, four eye-blinks. Is that even a unit of measurement? It was for you.

He turns to you. And the both of you just gaze at one another. Like time stops. Like nothing else matters in the world. When in reality you felt your mind could not work whenever you looked at him, really looked. It was as if you could feel him without having to touch him...

He wants to touch you, but he doesn't want to ruin it, doesn't want to startle you. Noticing the bags under your eyes that have always been there, he often thinks how crazy it is, seeing his own reflection in you. Makes him feel less alone, less afraid.

You notice his lips part in thought and the hushed sounds of air entering his mouth and his saliva shifting when his tongue separates from his palate. You delight in the smallest of the sounds. Your own lips twitch, almost smiling. Until you do, letting a loud cackle reverberate from you as interlaced apologies spill and hands cover your face, whole body curling on itself, making him grin and snort and drool, laughter increasing, while he pulls your now limp figure by your forearm against him. He wraps both arms and legs around you as your chests vibrate with amusement. You and the titan moderate the guffaw, you begin to welcome the weight of his limbs over your own folded ones. It is at this moment that you brush your nose up along his neck and chin releasing a warm breath, hesitating before speaking, nothing but a sighing note coming out still managing to get caught on your throat.

"...hm-..."

He looks down at your appreciative countenance, treasuring how your eyes mirror the day's glow like the marble caves in Patagonia reflect the soothing water patterns in the sunlight. Such... dazzling... orbs... You sense yourself being absorbed, revering the charming way his neck creases.

"You're...", you whisper breathlessly, "You're crushing me..."

His limbs free you from his powerful comatose bear hug and an invigorating draft sweeps an unruly lock of yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will realize my talent for finishing chapters just as it was about to get good.  
> Thank you kindly for taking time to read the stupidest thing ever. I'm trying.  
> So sorry if you don't have patience for people who aren't consistent updaters. It's a word now.  
> Love you, guys.  
> Remember that you're always worth it, you're talented and loved.  
> <3
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	2. Defective - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doubt and domesticity abound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a #DomesticityHoe

What an unproductive day.

You had sat at the kitchen's table, glancing at the Roman numerals encompassed in a grimy matte black rim reading eight thirty-two, thinking you should clean that wall clock. Ready to bring a new chapter to life, coffee mug at your side, nibbling on a mushroom omelette. Feeling so pumped! **Woooooo! YOU GOT THIS!!!**

Forty-five minutes later you were considering the fact that you were making yourself sick by laying on your stomach on the chair, a single, short, three sentence paragraph written and the cursor impatiently blinking. A loud exaggerated sigh came pouring out of your mouth and you felt your breakfast wanting to follow suit, causing yourself to launch to the floor, twisting your body to hit the ground with your butt as you forced your head back, preventing a nasty mess.

"Oh-kaaay... Okay..." You mumble, swallowing hard, making that bile backtrack all the way to the place where it's from. You laid under the table for a minute, mentally going through what you had written and what other activities you could dedicate yourself to, that day and in life. Almost every single day you struggled with yourself, with your worth, with your creations and ideas and if any of it was worth it. You were used to opposing seasons: you either dedicated yourself over to 1001 things, stretching yourself too thin, giving too much of any remains of sanity, or abandoning it all, giving in to the never-tired but always-tiring chronic depression and live in your bed. Some of you art was bringing sustenance in and you could add a couple of online jobs you were lucky to have scored, so... not all was bad in the Land of Plenty. Plenty self-doubt!

You stood up, drove your plate into the sink and refilled your mug. Nursing your coffee as you lazily dragged your feet enveloped by the pajama pants that were way too big for you towards the couch, you paused by the large mirror after catching a glimpse of yourself: disheveled hair, a bleach stain on the wide neckline of your top and behold!, the bottom seam was getting undone. You approached the mirror a bit more. Yeah, you felt old and were starting to look old.

"No, no", you exclaimed, eyes shutting, head shaking, an accusatory finger pointed to your reflection as you stepped away to the sofa, "No existential crisis right now! I am pretending to be busy!"

Ah, but it always proved itself to be inevitable. As you put your cup down on the coffee table and in a very controllable fashion sat on the couch, your hands lightly rested next to you, lost in the texture of the seat's material, trying to maintain composure for your being's sake. A million thoughts going a hundred miles per hour - _worthlessscumolduselesswasteofoxygengoodfornothingstupidpieceofshitnoonecaresnoonelovesyousuchafailureyouarerunningoutoftimekillyourselfkillyourselfkillyouselfkillyourselfkillyo-_ **RING!**

You shuddered, eyes widening and you snapped out of it only to groan out a hateful _fuuuck!_ as there were very few things you hated more than talking on the phone. And you hated a lot of things. One fluid trip to and from the landline as you made out a commercial number, rolling your eyes as far back as possible while the phone finished yelling at you, still sipping on your coffee. Lurching your arm to the side you grabbed hold of a mechanical pencil and a book, opening it where you last marked your position.

A key turned and you caught the shadow of the door opening in your peripheral. When you next looked over your shoulder at the time displayed on the kitchen's clock it read twenty-three past one in the afternoon. Well, there went the morning. You bookmarked the page you were on and stretched, squinting your eyes at the silent man who just dropped his keys noisily in the severed cranium by the entrance and huffed, losing something that was lodged between his teeth with a smack to the ground, howled an incomprehensible grunt and carried a couple of bags onto the counter. You jumped off the couch and went to pick up his phone from the floor, relocating it in the previously mentioned skull-decor-bowl-thingie you loved and trailed after him.

You peeked inside both bags and looked up at Kylo, who had his knuckles on the black slate countertop and breathed in and out a three times with his eyes shut. Peeling them open in your direction, he considered your expression for a few seconds.

"Saw your fridge two nights ago."

That low deep tone that ricochets off your chest.

He knows how you drag your visits to the outside world till the very last moment. Ideally he would subscribe to that notion. But he forced himself to teach kendō. He needed the money and needed the busyness. And that was exactly how you two met, six years ago: you having been a danseuse subbing for your injured friend who taught ballroom dances at the studio and simultaneously a martial artist studying under a certain master who made you choose between training and having any other job. There was a funny thing about humans and their need to eat and have shelter, so you had a quick falling-out with your master and ended up quitting altogether. You missed training so badly that you used to sneak and sit through someone else's classes, not even being the same art, because you were petty like that. Those were Kylo's.

You went to grab your wallet, plucked two fifties and placed them on the counter ahead of him. He rapidly grasped them and jabbed them in your PJ's pockets, your eyes following his hand, your own digging after the money and holding it to him.

"I got paid."

"So did I."

Kylo shed his grey hoodie, rolled down a small elastic band from his wrist, put his hair up, took a dozen eggs from the grocery bag, placed them in the fridge and continued putting the rest of the groceries away. In the meantime, you fetched a couple of forks and removed the food containers from the other bag he brought in. Then your face went from _what the fuck_ to:

"Oh my god, thank yyyouuu!", while you swapped the forks for chopsticks and spoons, cradling the phở to the low table and readying the next episode of the horror mini-series you've been watching together. You drowned the dry ingredients of your chicken soup in the hot broth and covered it again to let it steam. Kylo removed his black on black low top chucks by the door, tumbled down next to you which made you airborne for a split second and repeated the same process for his phở after pressing play on the remote.

You were glued to the TV for two hours, almost burning your tongue because you could barely wait for your comfort food. At the end of the first episode you had three tiny wet spots on your top from the tears that made their way down your cheeks and at the end of the second episode you had Kylo's strong hands riding your loose red plaid pants up to your knees, massaging your calves. Your finger pressed the off button on the remote, settling it on the side table as you sunk further into the couch and your arm made its way to the back of your head. Your feet pressed into the cushion of his expansive thigh and he tickled them, having you laugh and yelp a loud "no". His head turned in your direction, sporting that evil smirk; a few locks of hair had freed themselves from the oppression of his messy bun and if eyes could fuck, you would be laying on the ground thoroughly banged. You could almost hear a growl in your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the queen of commas.  
> Had written this section at 3 in the morning and then the next day saw a bunch of friends discussing phở and all I could think was, "I fucking hate these coincidences..." Still, I kept it because that's one of the things I miss the most from my island years...
> 
> Dem visuals:  
> Catch-all dish: [skull](http://tinyurl.com/htqj7h4)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	3. Defective - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two mangled creatures learning to cohabitate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Minor violence.

The sunlight invading your loft through the old steel warehouse windows perfectly bathed the left angle of his face, illuminating his eyes and making the outer lighter ring look like a lake of gold. Fully clad in onyx as it was his custom and slowly advancing towards you on the couch, Kylo resembled a large feline with cautious strategic gestures, his broad shoulders rolling as he got closer and his knees lifted onto the cushioned surface. Your heartbeat raised at the vision, expectant, excited, causing you to tremble. He parted your legs, steering one outwards and propped his full weight on you, stretching your arm down from behind your head so he could place his elbows next to your face, your left foot resting on the ground. You always felt so minuscule when near him. Now you were deluged.

Kylo stared into your eyes. Then leered at your nose and cheeks. He lowered by your ear and slowly inhaled your scent, crossing to the opposite ear to let it out through his nostrils, the air tickling you right where your neck meets your jaw below your lobe, a rogue strand of raven hair resting on your chin, but you dared not to move.

"You want this... don't you?", his hips almost imperceptibly rutted against yours, the resonance of his whisper and the crispness of his words enough to make you clench around nothing. He pulled back, continuing to observe you while settling his hands now on opposite sides of your chest. It was so quiet. Only your breaths could be heard and everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. Dropping his scarlet pillowy lips over the right side of your mouth, he placed the gentlest peck there, pulling back equally as slow, his eyes never leaving you.

And then it came.

No matter how much you were used to it some just caught you off-guard and you couldn't help but let a muffled whine be seized in your throat as your previously relaxed leg came up alongside you.

Then again. Same side, same intensity. You knew the shock hurt more than anything, really. This time no sound from you. Your leg back at its place.

The third smack over the same side hurt the most, the skin sensitive and warmer by now, Kylo immediately pressed his palm over it to calm the rising blood. His massive hand easily took your whole frontal right side. He could feel your eyelashes against the pad of his thumb, gently prickling it with movement. You opened your eyes and he gave you the smallest, most relaxed smile. And after removing his own grip from the fiery jowl, he flushed his lips against it, just feeling the temperature.

Sitting back on his heels, the giant pulled his t-shirt over his head, letting it fall on the ground and then pulled your bent legs together towards your chest, unceremoniously yanking both pajama and underwear off from under your ass, past your thighs and stretching your limbs up almost ripping one pant leg first, then the other, sending them flying somewhere behind him. Encompassing your ankles, he placed your legs along his perfect vast chest and kissed each foot on either side of his head, unnecessarily telling you to keep them there. Simultaneously, he ran his long thick middle finger down your slit, dipping it into the warm soaked entrance.

"Ffuuuck...", he breathed out while increasing the number of digits inside of you to two, plunging them to the last knuckle and adding his index after, your eyelids fluttering to the sudden stretch, "look how well you take them, you filthy whore."

The tips of your fingers find his still clothed marble-sculpted thighs and mindlessly draw circular patterns on them as he rhythmically fingerfucks you, all too fast and too much. Kylo loses himself gazing at how his extremities push and pull from within you, curling inside, making you weep and his hand drenched. Without forgoing, he shuffles with his jeans and underwear and only stops once his stiffened, reddened, huge cock is freed, an almost pained wail escaping his plump lips as he casts his head down, his hand spreading your wetness along your crevice. You can see the tip of his fingers sliding between your thighs and rubbing your engorged clit, desperate for attention.

"Touch your tits. Make your nipples hard for me, slut."

You finally release a moan from his ministrations as you pull your top over your breasts and begin caressing them, squeezing their fullness in your hands, feeling goosebumps taking over your skin before you focus on the most delicate area, your own fingers skimming across the now hardening nubs, rolling, pulling. All the while your sight never leaves his hand which has begun stroking his member, tugging on the skin, spreading your wetness on its head and mixing it with a heavy drop of precum threatening to drip from it, his unoccupied hand cupping his sac, squeezing it gently as he starts moving his wrist up and down the shaft, his own eyes not leaving you either until they meet.

"Wanna watch? You don't get to watch", he wraps one big arm around your legs still on his chest, roughly dragging your bottom closer as he leans his heaviness over you, "No, you don't get to watch... you get to feel it."

Your eyebrows knit in anticipation when suddenly pain and pleasure flood you as he forces his whole length inside at once, no sound able to pour from your parted lips, until he pauses, fully sheathed, the loudest cry at last erupting from your chest, the girth and size still too much to bear.

"Ahhh... Sshhhhiiiiiiiiit! Ho-how the fuck you still fffeel this... tight..."

You could've answered. If you could come up with a cohesive train of thought.

Your knees dug into your chest as Kylo started moving in and out of you with harsh momentum. His right hand bypassed your leg and assaulted your mouth, pressing on the tongue making you gag and sputter. Relocating his wet digits to your ass, he circled and prodded, tilting some weight on his left knee to boost the pace of his hips.

"NO! Noo, please, no, nooo..." You almost shrieked, eyes wide as saucers as he inserted one of his fingers in your tight hole, feeling it constricting, your pleas dying off as whispered sobs of delight. The man toyed with your rear for a few moments more until his grunts became louder and deeper, then withdrew from it, smacking your buttcheek hard thrice in quick sequence and spread your legs, bending them at the knees, fucking you with aggressive thrusts while promptly rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your breath was shallow and all your flesh was tensing.

"Your ass is mine. Don-don't -fuck- tell me whadado... Mmmatter of fact..." Abruptly, he pulls his pulsing cock out of you, gaining a startled whine. "This cunt is mine." He tightens his grasp around the shaft and jerks it hastily over you, one of his thighs mounting you and pressing against your hip. "All of you is mine. You're... Aahhh... You're all mine..." He growled and hunched, his wrist stilling and heavy ropes of hot sticky cum shot from his gargantuan dick, painting you from face to belly button, him returning to between your legs and smearing what was left of it on your pussy, sliding his still rock-hard cock over your lips and clit intensely and using his empty hand to rub the rest of his seed onto your skin. Kylo's hand didn't slack until you vigorously came, eyes pierced shut, your hips wildly bucking up to him, hands clawing at your scalp and thigh.

"Such a good slut, hmm? Sooo good for me." He cooed while you rode the aftershocks, a colossal hand making its way to your neck and closing on it. Finally opening your eyes, you gawked at the high ceiling, but the pressure only increased. You darted your look to him and it was almost aloof, save for a tiny wrinkle of tension between his eyebrows. His own eyes weren't focused. And he kept tightening your collar. You jolt under him and grab his athletic arms, but they didn't budge. Your eyes ran across everything everywhere. You kneed him on the side of his ribs and he gave in, howling, his torso convulsing to the side as you placed your feet in between you two and kicked him in the chest, taking the opportunity while he staggered back to jump to your feet crouching on the sofa. He placed one paw over his sternum and looked at you as if he was just dropped into the scene.

You slapped him quite keenly the first time, resonating inside your place and the second one was cut by your own voice.

" **I HATE YOU!** " You spat the words, adrenaline giving way to tears.

Kylo hauled you to his lap, your limbs straddling him and his decorated arms looping around your smaller frame. He let you cry into his alabaster chest till you dozed off wondering if he believed your nefarious words.

You didn't feel the kiss pressed to the top of your head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry.
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	4. Frenzy

His body was flushed against yours and he considered you. Your eyes. Sometimes they looked so... fierce. But he couldn't help wanting to break you. You were staring up right at him. He looked so... dissimulated. His own anatomy seemed to be part of the scheme: such a behemoth, everything was long and wide and big and powerful about him.

Everything but his mind. And his heart, frozen, swaddled by walls in a maze of thorns and thistles and lakes of fire and magnificent beasts, all created by others and himself to drive any jubilant adventurer away, or to insanity, or his favorite - to not even contemplate him. That's why he stuck around... there was no shred of happiness in you. You didn't want to change him, you didn't want to fix him. You just wanted him.

Kylo leaned over you, lips brushing against your exposed neck causing your breath to falter and you eyes to roll in their sockets. You could feel every exhale on your skin. His big hands enveloped your waist and dragged down your hips to your ass, crushing your cheeks with his strong fingers and forcing them apart till a pained whimper escaped your throat and you felt a growl rumbling in his chest. Your hands shot up to his lustrous obsidian locks and he bit you, holding your skin in between his teeth, breathing once, twice through his mouth before sucking the flesh and lapping at it, while fussing with your panties. The hunching giant hooked his neck over your shoulder and gazed down, bundling the fabric of your underwear in between your buttocks and tugging on it a few times before abruptly kneeling down and ripping them from you, as you steadied yourself on his expansive deltoids, lifting one foot at a time. When he rose, his digits caught on the hem of your t-shirt and scrambled it off of you. Kylo took two small steps back and ogled: bare-skinned, striking in your blemishes, in your designs, your proportions. Your eyes were on the floor ahead and your arms fought to stay parallel. He took his time.

"Bedroom." A single word caused you to shiver and lead the way to the Japanese bed. Kylo escorted you, silent. The soles of your feet stuck to the smooth hardwood flooring as you walked, the heel of his boots clumping. You reached the mattress, but he lingered behind you, appraising your back. You couldn't see the limb that was brought up towards it, wanting to touch you however resolving against it, you only heard the rustling of fabric. "Face me." You complied. "Undress me."

You did as told, pulling his hooded cardigan down his arms and setting it on the nearby grey club chair. Next were his leather balmoral boots, getting on your knees to undo the shoelaces and carefully removing them from his feet, first the left one, then the right, repeating the same process with his socks, neatly storing them inside the shoes. Your hands made way to the button on his snug trousers, undoing it. Your thumb and index maneuvered the slider down leisurely, your knuckles caressing the underside of his full erection, seeing it angrily push against Kylo's undergarments as you rid his legs of the fabric, his eyes observing you from the top of his monumental height. You came up to your feet, laid his pants with his jacket, and climbed onto the chair, the hulking man getting closer to you to allow the disrobing, a fashionable and overpriced knit tunic being dropped on the seat. He barely had to recline his head back to level his gaze with yours. Setting his claws on your waist, he hoisted you up and helped you return to the floor where you kneeled down once more and instantly freed his raging imposing hard-on. You could feel your own juices coating the inside of your thighs, and with nimble fingers you gathered some, smearing it along his shaft before licking the heavy bead of tart precum oozing from the narrow slit.

Hastily, he yanked you up by the hair and tackled you onto bed, getting on top of you and spreading your legs as soon as you both hit the mattress.

"You turn me on so much, get me so hard, do you even know how badly I want to fill that pretty mouth with cum every time I see you?" The pad of two fingers traced along the sensitive skin of your lips as he spoke, moving them down to cup your cunt "Look how wet you are for me," Kylo rubbed his whole hand over your sex, spreading the fluid over your folds and clit, quickly increasing the rhythm at which he did so, the splashy, watery sounds reaching your ears. You writhe and moan, his eyes frantically moving between your pussy and your face, his own expression contorting in pleasure. Suddenly his hand abandons you and you almost scream, having been so close so quickly. He shows his hand up close to you.

"Clean your mess." The stern order with a clear, unaffected tone, left no room for disobedience, so your tongue darted out and lapped at his palm, smelling and tasting yourself. 

He was so close to you, he could rest his nose on your cheek.

"Hurry, I wanna eat you..." He then forced his fingers in your mouth, a small startled noise escaping you and when he felt satisfied from fucking your face, he moved down your body, kissing and licking the valley of your breasts before grabbing them with both hands. His full lips wrapped around your left nipple while his fingers worked on the opposite one, his eyes meeting yours, watching you attentively. You pressed your chest against his face, savoring the building bliss. He sucked your nub hard into his mouth, lightly biting and teasing the hardened peak with the tip of his tongue and the metal in it, releasing it with an audible wet pop and repeating the courtesy for the other one. He left a trail of nibbles and oscules along your stomach as he kept lowering himself over you, reaching your thighs and enveloping his long muscled arms around them, pulling you closer to him and locking you in place. He taunted you with pecks all over the expanse of your thighs and mound, glancing up at you and smirking at your evident impatience. Then he dropped his stare to your opening. It almost seemed like he was admiring a beautiful work of art. He swallowed, his mouth watering. You trembled in anticipation, feeling his breath dancing over the glistening creases. Kylo pressed an open-mouthed lethargic kiss on them, drawing the meaty folds into his lewd cavity and dismissing them only when sucking on your clit, the apex of his organ briskly flicking it before being flattened and smooth at your skin from the base of your tail to the top of your slit, the barbell in his tongue snagging on the hood. The sounds coming from him were unquestionably and shamelessly depraved. And as you struggled, your core wincing, clenching, dripping, your own orbs trying to resist the urge to close, your fingers unexpectedly crossing with his, kept in place, your gorge reciprocated with its obscene notes.

Kylo grinned.

You would've felt it, if you weren't so close to orgasming, your whole being shaking, head thrown back and eyes finally shutting, while your hips jerked widly, lips never leaving your bundle of nerves being frenetically dragged into the colossal man's mouth as rapid exhales left through his Roman nose. You howled, convulsing, and he wouldn't stop. He would never tire of seeing the power he was granted over you.

Settling from your high, the long tongue was inserted into you, making you whine when he guzzled your cum, nose, chin and cheeks now wet. Kneeling on the bed, Ren roughly wiped his face with the left forearm while his right hand grasped your flesh and rolled you inwards on the mattress.

"Ass up."

You propped yourself on your kneecaps and elbows, back arched as far as it would go, exposing all of your backside and pussy like you knew he loved.

"Mmm, your ass drives me insane..." His tenacious hands kneaded your posterior, striking it and making you lunge forth at the contact. Kylo tugged you upright across his built blazing physique, encasing your shoulders and waist, the hand on top turning your head to the side, favoring his teeth to nip all exposed skin from ear to upper back. You wiggled your butt against his solid member, fondling it along your split, a short viscous thread of wetness swaying from your cunt.

"Please fuck me, please, please," you mewled.

"Ah, she speaks! What did you say, my little cum slave?" Teasing with his baritone hum, he placed his ear next to your lips.

"Would you kindly take pity on your servant and honor me with your superb manhood, Master?" Your voice barely above a whisper.

"Aww, so cordial. How can I deny such a gracious request?" You hair being smoothed, his nose tracing your jaw.

He granted your body quiescence, a cheek resting against the comfortable bedding, your arms folded under you, nails faintly scraping your chin, breath steadying. The titan raked his touch across your supple skin. The directed glans nudged your entrance and slickly invaded you, his respiration arrested in his lungs, only being freed past mid insertion and accompanied by a coarse groan. Then he halted, foreboding filling you almost as much as his massively thick cock - it was about to hurt.

Kylo moved calmly at first, leaning back and keeping nothing but the tip of his erection in you every time before resuming his position, buried in your warmth, straining your cervix. You tried not to recoil and breathed through his deep lunges.

His heavy palm came down on you, your butt being toughly clutched on to, mimicking your grip on the duvet. At once, the giant's advances become quicker, both of you gasping loudly and starting to break a sweat, while the rhythmic noise of skin slapping against skin elevated. He was completely intoxicated by the sight of your swollen crimson lips squeezing his rigid throbbing shaft causing your thighs and bottom to quake. Your back curved towards the ceiling.

"R-ren! Ease, easyyy!"

Chasing his relief, the marble-sculpted Adonis groaned, energetically capturing your arms and pulling you flushed against his chest once again, right hand seizing your bust, left one snaking down your lower abdomen to your tender bud, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts. Roaring sobs involuntarily flying from your vocal cords inflaming his arousal even further.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh... Just take it... Ta-ahhhh... Take it!" Kylo kept shushing you, staggering moans from him falling to your ears. Pushing through the pain, all your senses attuned to his body: the breath on your neck, the fingers on your clit and breast, the torso on your back. His hair itching lightly on your collar, his thighs brushing on yours.

With incongruous blaspheme, your walls contracted, milking him. The enormous male stalled, drooling on your shoulder, clasping you, pumping into you, a guttural sound ending in a mellow hum.

Ren loosened his robust limbs, shifted his legs under himself and fell back on his bottom, leaning on his elbows, while your own frame collapsed forward, ass still up in the air.

Half-lidded eyes bore into your pelvis, seeing the cloudy white mixture tinted pink slowly oozing from within you.

Both remained in your positions for what it felt like an eternity, your eyes closing, almost dozing off until you felt Kylo stirring, your head shooting to the bathroom doorway as you watched his bare, perfect, bow-legged ass disappearing into it. You heard the toilet flushing and the faucet opening. The man exited carrying a damp cloth, crawling back onto bed and delicately cleaning you, tossing the rag to the side, then pulled himself lazily up to your side.

He looked at you. His eyes carried up to no particular place on the ceiling above. You avoided his stare. Felt him restless.

Suddenly, Ren jumped to his feet and walked to the chair where you had laid out his clothes, redressing in silence. From your spot, you turned on your side, away from him.

He blinked, hooded dark pools set on the cushioned seat. Not long after, he spun on his heel and made way through your living room, picking up your panties from the floor, pocketing them and taking his keys, closing the door behind him.

You wished he had stayed.

You took a deep breath and couldn't help the tears and sobs that were liberated, you didn't even know why.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, cause I don't know about you but I like visuals...  
> Ren's clothes: [here](http://tinyurl.com/z6ey78l)  
> Ren's boots: [here](http://tinyurl.com/jn8ru7p)
> 
> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	5. Symbiosis

A minor panic attack had struck you. You didn't know why, you were in the safety of your cave, you had been relaxed. Your mind, of course, never ceased thinking about a million things, so... could you really say you didn't know why? There were the imbalanced familiar relationships, that even though they were barely actual relationships as you haven't talked to anyone besides your mom for years they still sneaked their way into your brain. There was the anxiety about life and plans and how you kept vigilance over the count down, seeing time running through your fingers like sand, unable to grasp it, stop it, take control. There were the always afflicting thoughts, the bigger questions in the Universe that have haunted you since childhood - What's the point? Why we're here? Where we came from? Why be born, get a job, have kids, die? Why is everybody doing it? Why are feelings demanded of us towards some? Why? When no one cares about what happens inside... Nothing is true. Nothing is real.

They might have called you a mess. If they only knew, that is... You had some of the best social masks. Thankfully you didn't have to wear them often as of late. You've been isolating yourself for the last 10 years, only going out when necessary, only saying the essential. You've pretty much lost all your "friends". You didn't care. 

Roughly wiping your face with your hands and managing to stab your right eyelid with your nails, you stared down at the toddler-size stuffed animal you had been cuddling, suffocating between body-wracking sobs following your fit of terror. Without a second thought, you shoved it under your arm and flew to the door, snatching your bag and slipping into your sneakers, collecting both your keys and sunglasses and heading out.

Headphones on, the shades hid your grounded bloodshot puffy eyes, attempting to pay no heed to the curious glances from passersby, before entering the closest coffee shop and analyzing their menu while getting in line, more out of nervous habit than necessity, for you gravitated and rotated over the same four, five drinks, depending on season and inclination. 

After paying for your beverage and be given it, you walked towards the subway station, squeezing your faithful buddy. Shortly, you were getting in the train and sitting between a tall old man and a law student in heels and on her phone, while a male teenager with earphones checked her out and a woman attempted to remove a fallen eyelash from her girlfriend's cheek. Blowing on your still steaming drink and taking a whiff, you wondered why you hated people and noise, yet loved observing them. The boy was the first one to exit on his stop. Then the women, whose spots were taken by a guy in layers of dance wear carrying a duffel and a mother with an infant against her chest and a six-year-old who stared at you. Nearing your stop, both you and the old man got up. He smiled and nodded, extending his arm and letting you pass ahead of him. You replied mutely, simpering, and exited, making your way up the cement stairs, seeing the congestion of individuals on the escalator.

As you saw sunlight once again, your steps decelerated. Now closer to your destination, you moved the chunky companion from your sweaty front to your underarm and strolled, nursing the now appropriate to consume liquid. 

Eleven leisure minutes passed by, after forcing yourself to window shop, and you were making your way up to Ren's apartment, not before writing your name down on the visitor's sheet and the hefty concierge telling you he wasn't home.

"Oh, I know. Thank you." Polite smiles were offered and you scanned the two-inch card on your keychain to activate the elevator. He claimed he had sold himself to the modeling industry and put enough odd jobs under his belt while cradling Callicles, Pyrrho and Seneca's works through college so he could get this place for himself. It was all his. You didn't even dare attempting to guess how much he paid for it, if your own hard-worked-for old loft was indication of anything. Plus his location was much more centered. 

It was an uninterrupted ascension and you walked till the end of the narrow short corridor, fished the keys from your satchel, opening the front door and setting the keychain along the warm potion atop the dining table. At this time of the afternoon, Kylo has made his way to work, so you know it will be hours till he's home. You approach one of the windows and take in the view: busy city down there, pedestrians marching amongst skyscrapers and parking structures, vehicles stuck in traffic, an occasional laughter or horn floating its way up to your ears. A shuddering sigh rattled through you, back turning against the world and feet mindlessly guiding you to the giant's alcove. You slipped off your shoes, dropped your bag, unlaced the top of your sweats and shook them down your legs. Without ever letting go of your tranquilizing partner, one hand pulled the vintage crewneck t-shirt off and let it fall on the pile. You cracked the bedroom's window open and settled in the middle of the king size bed. The spacious squishy mattress took over the room, but the owner himself was quite colossal. In a fetal position, tightening around your friend, you buried your head between it and the pillow, letting the mixed smell of him and his shampoo, the warmth of the late afternoon and the quietness of the place fill you. The metropolitan muffled noise way in the background...

You fell asleep. 

Dreamless. 

Just exhaustion.

Kylo entered his apartment, damp hair from the gym's shower, drained, heading to the laundry area, when he spotted extra items on his table. Grabbing your cup of now cold elixir, he indulged on his way to jam the contents of his rucksack in the washer. Then paused in the kitchen, reading 9:27pm on the fridge's door, finishing the drink and tossing the cup. Shoes now off, he paused by the bedroom's doorway, examining the curling figure in the falling darkness and how she was gripping the black mass so tightly, hiding her face, then stepped in the window's direction, slowly closing it. Carefully, that tree-of-a-man laid on his side facing you, watching you. Stirring, you peeked from behind the plushy, drowsily blinking at him. Perhaps it was the sleep in your eyes, or the dusk, but you thought you saw him smiling for a bit. You unwrapped your right arm and softly touched his face, trailing down his chin and back to his upper lip, feeling the prickling hairs on your fingertips.

"You letting it grow?" Listless words leaving your heavy body.

Kylo hummed, lifting his left hand and rubbing on top of yours against his jaw. "Been a while since I last did."

Retreating your hand, you perched yourself on your elbow and began moving off the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"I gotta go."

"I just got home. Haven't seen you in two weeks."

"Almost two weeks. And I meant to the bathroom."

His hand folded over your wrist and gently pulled you back to the heart of the bed, your loyal soft friend squished between the two.

"Ren, I have to go."

"Just a bit longer..." His voice in a deep whispering request, the sentence ending in a leftover exhale that swept across your lips, his nose burying in your neck and hair, breathing in and out profoundly, soothing your still hazy state back to sleep, his own eyes closing.

Next time you woke, night had fallen. The bulky form rouse, turning the bedside lamp on, making you both squint as he removed his uncomfortable clothes. Launching your feet to the ground, a sharp pain shot through your bladder, immobilizing you while a stiffed grimace took over your expression. Seeing you shutting down from the other side of the room, Kylo rushed over and picked you up with his solid arms, scurrying to the bathroom and entering the shower, sitting on the granite bench with you straddling him.

You just stared at Ren.

Still in his underwear, the pale-skinned male rid you of your bra and turned the shower on, keeping his almond hooded eyes on yours, his big warm hands caressing your arms. A small smirk pulled at his lips. You leaned back, steadying yourself on his forearms and letting the relaxing jets flow through your hair, resuming your spot after, water dribbling down your back and bottom. One of his big paws was placed over your extended abdomen, pressing on it gently and causing you jaw to tighten. His brows knit together, picking on your apprehension. It was not the first time you had engaged in this. Both of you had seen, smelled, felt and tasted almost every fluid your bodies produced, but as intimate as it was and as close as you felt, it still pulled at your self-conscience. And so you were holding it in.

"Want me to do it too?"

A disquieting nod was all you offered.

Ren encircled your waist with an athletic limb, displacing your frame from his core to his sturdy dextral thigh, your own right leg still wrapped over his lap. His gaze descended to the front of his exercise midway briefs, deft digits pulling his resting member out and momentarily setting it on your inner thigh, somewhat stretching the shaft before loosening up and letting the rivulet of urine stream onto you. Four eyes fixed on the acrid liquid washing down your groin and soaking your cotton panties till the last drops were erratically expelled, his mouth finding your receptive neck, sloppily kissing it and simultaneously moving your hips back and forth on his lap. Your fingers tangled in the pitch black tendrils, a shiver running along your whole anatomy, while the shower steam awarded you both a misty glow. The hulking man restored your figure to the center of his lap and pulled your underwear to the side with his thumb while looking up at you. You held his stare, unclenching and obliging for the pungent juice to trickle onto his generous half-hard length, fully drenching his briefs and letting it pour down to the shower's floor. 

This time you were sure he smiled.

Both his thumbs caught on the smooth humid textile, bisecting the front of your undies, before lifting you over his progressively stiffening dick and letting your folds engulf it at your own pace. Relaxing sighs leaked from you and from him, and instantly the monstrous mass got up and carried you under the pleasant rain, supported by his mighty limbs, till your back hit the contrasting chilled wall. Your legs hung over his arms, while your own tightened around his solid neck, huge hands groping your ass.

Ren fucked up into you.

Neither of you spoke after, cocooning yourselves in towels and in each other. Scratching his growing facial hair with your nails, you muttered how much you liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omorashi?! More like just peeing...  
> Also, Ren unnecessarily rips underwear cause he's xxxtra.
> 
> For reference, cause I don't know about you but I like visuals...  
> Ren's bed (forget about the hotel disposition of the bedding): [here](http://tinyurl.com/hwdd9sr)  
> Ren's shower (except no LEDs, bad LEDs, kill the LEDs) : [here](http://tinyurl.com/zewpn4n)
> 
> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	6. Inveterate - Part I

It must had been ten to one when you turned off the lights. 

Ren came by after dinner, plopped on your couch and watched a French movie with the sound off, while you furiously typed on your laptop, gesticulated in the air and mumbled, trying to find the right words, often cursing your way through a sentence. When you noticed the TV off, your document was saved and the screen was put down. You got up from the kitchen chair and finished your water before reaching the back of the navy sofa and leaning on it.

"Come here", he called out louder than necessary, his eyes closed.

You spoke levelly. "I am here."

Head tilting in your direction and eyes opening. "Come. Here."

You sighed calmly and deeply, rounded the couch and stood by the titan lazily lying on the old cushions. You did a double take to the entry console and noticed four sets of keys.

"You drove here?"

"Yeah."

"How did you know there would be par-doesn't... matter, nevermind..." Your head shook and you yawned.

"We're going somewhere in the morning. Well... yes, morning. No, afternoon. Fuck it, morning", he fought with the clock on his phone, reaching the coffee table with an extended arm and placing it there. "Do note that I had informed Your Recluse Highness of my intentions circa three weeks ago." His tone was one of mockery, but at least he respected your quirky need of self-preparation time for plans. You often spiraled down when the seemingly lack of control over life hit you. 

"Is it pointless of me to inquire further more?"

Kylo nodded and grabbed your hand, bucking his hips up.

"I don't wanna fuck."

"I don't want to fuck either."

"I am not jerking you off."

"Of course you aren't."

The both of you just stared. Then he broke the silence.

"Just sit on me."

"Sit... on you. Like sit on your..."

"Lap. Sit on my lap."

Still holding his hand, you straddled his hips. And there was the hard-on.

"... you sure you don't want to fuck?"

"I... am... sure." You rolled your neck, answering more to convince yourself than anything else, while he pulled you to his broad chest covered in a charcoal jersey and enveloped you in the strong branches of his arms. The back of your head rested against his cheek. You hesitated in the quietness.

"What is it?"

The man shuddered violently, crushing you in his embrace, burying his face in your collar. With difficulty, you turned your head to him, his wavy long hair being dragged by your nose and blocking your sight. You could barely breathe. He could barely breathe. Condensation and drool gathered on your skin with the mute scorching puffs his mouth unleashed. Your right hand laboriously left its place from between your torsos to wrap around his shoulder from under his limb. His knees bent up, feet overlapping one another. Your bodies an amorphous heap of despair and torment.

A single sob escaped you, expression contorting. 

You couldn't take seeing him cry.

Minutes passed, you don't know how many. When you felt his breathing stabilizing, your hand cautiously tried to push the curls of raven hair on his forehead away, encouraging him from the hiding spot on your neck. Ren let you guide him back, his eyes still humid, the tip of his wet nose skimming across your profile, cheeks and lips flushed cardinal.

Your thumb gently drying the now cold tear trails around his eyes, brighter, the thin golden-green outer band capable of striking aurora borealis' jealousy. Your grasp set on his mole peppered skin, fingerpads tallying them, balming kisses planted on the disheartened man's face and chin. Delicately, you shifted off his body, walked to the lightswitch and flicked it. 

In the dark studio scantily bathed by the waning crescent moon, Kylo got on his feet and rid himself of the hooded-sweater, both of you walking to the bed and shedding the remaining clothes before laying in it, facing each other. His eyes shone in the low light. A pressure in your chest was crushing your already heavy heart - the stunning, tantalizing, statuesque Himeros so excruciatingly troubled and tenebrous and tragically destituted. And you - an illustration of precisely that. Each other's epitome, each other's manifestation. To abuse you was to punish himself, to harm yourself was to cripple him, to love him was to love yourself. But you couldn't love you. So you loved him.

Your fingers touched in the nighttide, two sets of eyes scanning a pair of placid demeanors, soundless laments sporadically punctuated by deadened sniffles. You can't recall who fell first into the land of Morpheus.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -whispers- Crylo in da house...
> 
> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	7. Inveterate - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #DatPerfectMorningAfterTheRunningRiversOfTheEyes

You woke with the early soft rays of sunshine pouring in your place, not moving an inch, just listening to the gargantuan beefcake steadily inhaling and exhaling on your back.

You kept your eyes closed, gradually towing your persona from the depths of haze, impromptu memories of former years when your apartment was smaller and your bed too miniscule for the man still fast asleep flashed in your mind. A smile crept on your soul for you were still too tired to move your own muscles. And so you remained serene, eyes shut, waiting for sound to bring your awareness back to the land of the living. Or the living-dead.

You drifted in and out of sleep so you weren't sure if it had been ten minutes or one hour when you finally heard profound breaths and some stiffed snorts, Kylo awakening and also remaining motionless. Neither of you did mornings. That didn't mean you didn't do each other in the morning. Because he could be still as a rock, but he was also hard as one. You moved half a fraction. The mattress shifted and the noise of sheets disarraying and a bottle cap clicking caught your attention. 

Then nothing. For a stretch.

Breaking the morning quietness came a glossy sonority right before you felt one of the giant's arms snake under your neck and pillow, grasping on to your folded arms by your chest and bringing himself closer to you. Both your hands turned on their wrists to hold on to his forearm and that's where they would stay.

Meanwhile, his other palm felt cold and slippery when he placed it behind your outside knee and maneuvered it upwards and forward, bending it at a more acute angle. His nose brushed on your upper back, his warm lips planting kisses in between your shoulder blades on their way to your nape. A sharp shiver caused your figure to rattle and your shoulders to rise protectively, a startled hum erupting from your throat, skin instantly rising in tiny bumps. Ren placed his mouth by your ear and that's the spot where it would not leave.

You could feel and hear his breath, his lips smacking, his tongue moving behind them, every shift of spit in his saturated cavern. He knew you so well... knew exactly what your body and brain would react to. While making you shudder and drenched, the hand not holding you against him dropped a small bottle of lubricant ahead with a hollow and cushioned thud, then groped your bottom and kneaded it. Next, an exploring fingertip rubbed on your puckering hole, a huff coming out frayed through your nostrils. The digit penetrated your flesh, the first knuckle slowly giving place to the middle one, followed by the last one. His lips parted, breath intake stuttering, your own lungs releasing air in very deep puffs. Kylo moved a little inside of you, prepping your tight orifice for more - it had been some time. Soon a second digit was joining the first, equally as gentle, but steady. You couldn't help but clamp on his incredibly thick fingers.

"Shhhh... Relaaax... Shhhh..." His voice lower and rugged from sleepy disuse, barely perceptible if not by your ear, words lagging, certain consonants crisp on your left, making you tingle, and a kiss on the auricule before hushing you to relax again.

After a few moments within you, his fingers vacated and you could hear his hand at your front line before you lazily peeped: using his left hand alone, he turned the almost empty vial down to his palm and poured some more oil, dropping it on the bed and folding fingers helping the squirted jelly spread all over his massive fist - he didn't want to let you go. Your eyelids closed again and you listened to his coated hand sliding along his erection, reapplying the necessary dampness, the squishy melody this time compelling an indeed physical grin to display on your face.

He saw it.

The pair of digits returned to your ass, probing, preparing, leaving. Then you felt something substantial, sleeker, hand first pushing your buttcheek aside, but quickly moving on to his shaft to help guide its head into you. All the time listening to his mouth, feeling him breathe on you, making your arouse hit greater levels.

"Mmm... Relaaax.. Don't-push... Don't pushhh... Shhh... Relax..."

Everything happened in such a languorous manner. He was so big, there wasn't any other way the both of you could enjoy it. The first time had been savagely painful and mortifying because you were both horny and voracious. Lesson learned.

With half of his imposing member buried in you, Kylo realized you were holding your breath and your muscles had started to clench quite hard on him. It tended to happen - overwhelmed by the intrusion, feeling too stretched around his unforgiving cock, your brain often shut down, lips unable to say a word and body getting into defensive mode.

"Relax. Breeeaaathe... Please... Pleeeaaase... Relaaax..."

He let his length partly ease off of you, in the same rhythm he was previously pushing it in. Attempting to plunge, he found your muscles even tighter, breath held for too long.

His own left thigh lined up with yours, bodies turning slightly inwards on your sides and robust arm fastening around your immovable tucked ones, causing so much pressure on you.

"Breathe. Relax. Please." Each word heaved, when suddenly and simultaneously he pulled your shape and forced a vicious half-thrust into your ass, your air being released in an enormous and panicked, eye-opened exhale along a loud cry from the depths of your stomach, his hips then stilling further inside you, right cheek, lips and chin pressing down on your head.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry..." His murmur like a fear-struck sinner's prayer for absolution, while all your bones trembled from the impact. It took a bit for your breathing to quell and for your body to assuage, but when they finally did, the Herculean figure moved his top arm from your infatuation prison to slither his paw in between your legs, pad of middle finger tantalizing the swollen, hood-covered pearl as he very unhurriedly stirred his hips back and forth. Anointing his digit with your cum, he increased the speed at what he was caressing you, his thrusts becoming somewhat hastier as well.

Throughout the bout, his lips maroon as ripe pomegranates by your ear, his sepulchral moans, his susurrated words telling how good you are doing, how he will go slow, how tight you are. You heard him swallowing the surplus of saliva. You felt the ticklish hairs of his new beard and the piercing in his tongue every time he licked at your lobe and neck. Your nails dug on his forearm.

"You close?"

"Mmhmm!" That was all you could manage from your clouded state.

"Then cum for me, babygirl."

Like the well-trained pet you are, a few more strokes from his fingers and you were convulsing against his hand, spasming around his dick, drawing curses from his pleasured scowl as he couldn't control sinking into you and spilling his seed, one hand grabbing your hips crudely as the other still firmly wrapped around you squeezed your shoulder.

Your hearts were beating out of your chests, his against your back, until he removed his softening cock. Observing you, he noticed your hand making its way down your front and immediately resumed his position behind you, head craning over your left shoulder, your right hand covering his face as you squelched into your pillow how you weren't done yet. Kylo bit on the side of your raised hand and pulled your thighs open to him, rolling with you to watch your digits furiously attacking your clit to conclude your orgasm, core tensing and back arching up from his body, the last seizures hitting you hard before going limp over his frame.

"You're astounding." Two sneaky fingers dipped into your oversensitive cunt causing you to protest and swiped some of your juice from it, being plummeted into his mouth after.

Minutes later, the both of you were mustering the required energy to use the bathroom and shower together, as you tried to pry more information about the place he would be driving you to shortly.

"What should I wear?"

"Whatever you want to."

"Do I need sunscreen?"

"People claim to be a good idea to wear it even indoors, even in Winter."

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"We can get something."

"Is it a good idea for me to wear a dress?"

"Up to you."

"Makeup?"

"If you like."

"You're being awfully vague and I want to cry because you know I hate surprises."

"Yes, but you won't need to do anything. I just have something to show you."

"Will people be there?"

"Yeeesss..."

"Many?"

"I... don't know... but we can leave whenever you feel uncomfortable. I'm not expecting to stay there for long anyway..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I used "beefcake".  
> Yes, Ren used "babygirl".  
> And said he was sorry.  
> I am shocked with all these things. Or perhaps he is developing a case of the feels. Arrest us.
> 
> ASMR Ren is my thing.
> 
> Easy on the butt fun, kids! Go slow and have LOADS of patience. Remember everything is still transmissible in the back. Life isn't a porn flick. 
> 
> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	8. Inveterate - Part III

You got in his '68 Charger and immediately kicked off your boots, crossing your legs on your seat, and tugged on the seat belt. You absolutely loved his car and envied him for it. Had been over a year and a half since you were last driven by Kylo. You had gone to an unexpectedly crowded rooftop party thrown a town away by a friend of a friend and you swore to never again attend things out of anxious pressure. You know, when people are excited about plans and expect you to be a part of them - **just.say.no.** It was too cold, everyone got too drunk and you were surrounded by pretentious, self-entitled asswipes who turned very handsy when not sober. Therefore, like in teen movies, you locked yourself in one of the bathrooms and called Superman to come save you. And he was kind of angry at you for some reason? Perhaps because he was out somewhere with someone? You didn't ask but you remember hearing music and voices over the phone. When the black-wearing Goliath walked through the party searching for you, six-five, built as a god damned castle tower, looking like he could probably drag everyone there to the underworld with him by the hair, you just felt giddy. And bad, very bad. So after a silent ride back home, parking and arguing with you at two in the morning when he didn't even exactly know why, the night ended with you sucking his dick and getting cummed on before he drove off and you went upstairs. Class act.

"Is it far?"

"Little over an hour if traffic isn't bad." His tresses were still slightly damp from showering, as were yours. You rolled down the window for the morning air to flow, sun warming it by the minute.

"This car was made for roadtrips. Badass roadtrips. Ever made one?" Placing your shades on your nose, your head leaned towards him and he turned the key in the ignition, engine roar making you wet, and waited for an opportunity to leave the spot.

"Not with this car. She used to haul us with her whenever she visited her brother. We enjoyed being dragged there to have her spend all her time in between calls and conferences. Greatest time of my life." His words quick, flat and bitter.

People marched on the sidewalks, some going to work, some strolling, and you were both quiet till the city and the traffic lights were left behind, REO Speedwagon playing on the radio.

"Wanna go on a roadtrip?"

Shifting in your seat, you tried to scrutinize his expression from the very corner of your eyes, not wanting to look too enthusiastic. His shoulders hunched, hands twisting around the stirring wheel, before one of them pushed some of the wavy ebony hair back, eyebrows furrowing due to lack of verbal response.

"Beginning of next month?"

Your own brows shot up. It would be much colder by then, but it's not like you really wanted to wait for next Summer...

"Sure."

"Have two weeks, but don't want to spend every day traveling..."

"I... I don't want you to be doing this as a favor to me..."

Ren glanced at you. "Did you hear those words coming out of my mouth? Did you?"

"No..."

"Alright then."

The rest of the trip was done in relative tranquility to the sounds of Judas Priest and Def Leppard, and his fingers tapping along some of the songs. Then he circled around a particular block for a couple of times and parked, removed his keys and gazed over you while you slipped back into your shoes. You both abandoned the vehicle and walked along the pavement, stopping in front of a cafe. At first glance it gave you an urban French, maybe New Orleans style feel, with the dark wrought iron lattice railings and columns decorating the outside of the tangerine-colored brick building, and indoors the tone repeated itself although having a nice somber mahogany flooring. You paused once inside and took it all in, scanning through the tables, booths, customers, counter and... Kylo's paintings on the walls. Kylo's paintings. On the walls. You walked to them, entranced, looking around yourself, full three-sixty, there were one, two, thr-four of his paintings hanging on this hipster-ish cafe.

"Ren..." Was all you muttered as he followed you, noticing then a guy in his thirties wearing a seaweed flat cap, wiping his hands and making his way to you from behind the counter. The usually reserved leviathan extended his hand and his smile to the welcoming fellow, introducing him as Etienne, who attended his aikidō classes and owned the place, and introducing you by name and no further explanation. You shook Etienne's hand who ushered you to a booth closer to one of the walls and away from the line of customers. Putting down your bag, you sat on your left leg and took a menu from the large paw ahead of you.

"Is there a story?"

"Matt's colleague." His intense eyes rushed to Etienne now behind the register, passing the orders to a curly-haired girl wearing a graffitied crop top and baggy overalls. "Started coming to the gym and taking some classes, we started talking, now he's leaving his job, opened this spot last month, asked me if I knew of any painters who made really colorful art that wasn't abstract. And well," he gestured to the wall next to your seats, "there it is."

You trailed after his hand, staring at the horse in shades of blue, purple and yellow, each tone blending with the next one, perfect shadows on an imperfect creature.

"This is amazing", you said after a long pause.

"His food is amazing, so check the menu. I am starving."

Minutes of indecision went by, questions and answers regarding having ever been there before and what he had had to help you make up your mind. Etienne materialized by your table, asked Kylo what he thought about the disposition of his works and informed a few people had already inquired about the artisan. The praised prodigious man pinked lightly with rapid thanks being fired from his lips and soon enough you were ordering your late breakfast, glasses of iced water being filled by a big jug prior to the man returning to the counter and sending the chosen order to the kitchen.

A comfortable silence set between the pair of you, while you observed the room and the people sitting at the tables, every so often a person coming in and ordering a beverage to go. You fished your phone out of your satchel and discreetly snapped a picture of the sunlight entering the shop, a couple in a booth by the larger window, nipping on their dishes and drinking their coffees, carelessly laughing. Then you took another photo, catching Ren's profile as he also stared at the couple, chin on his hand, locks caressing his neck before he noticed you and leaned back staring straight into the lens, even though you tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, not even allowing for your face to twitch when he caught you. Maybe he'd think you were simply on your phone.

Or not.

"Why don't you get a camera?"

"Hmm?"

"I know what you're doing. Why don't you buy a real camera?"

You put down your phone following another quick picture and stretched your arms out, playfully. "Because I am not made of money? I don't know, is there a correct answer?"

He shrugged, eyeing you.

"Besides, if I could choose, it would be a film camera. And do you know how much work would that imply? And the costs? I can't invest on something that might end up in my drawer, gathering dust."

"You need a hobby."

"I don't come to the outside world enough to justify that particular hobby."

"Give it a home theme: 'How Many Times Can I Photograph My Stove Before Getting Sick of It?' or 'Toes in Every Angle - A Study' and the classic 'Visual Guide of Benefits from Lathering Semen on My Face'."

Your laughter was suddenly contorting into a horror expression as you noticed the girls on a nearby table looking over with disgusted faces as you suppressed a cry to the gods you didn't believe in into your hands and Kylo nodded to the women. Thankfully the state of embarrassment was shortly to be topped by the pleasure from the aromas and visuals of your food being laid on the smooth wooden surface, elbows retracting to your sides as your mouth watered. With a lively and delighted thankfulness to the spunky waitress, you picked up your silverware as she wished you both a _bon appétit_ and made her way back.

In front of you was a small rustic looking brown bowl of peach and blueberry oatmeal with coconut milk. Ahead of Ren was a modest mizuna and plum salad with hazelnuts and ginger and miso dressing, along two gluten and dairy free raspberry muffins. And in between the both of you laid a platter with two fried eggs and smoked salmon in a bed of arugula and cucumber with pesto. You inspected the dishes and beheld each other.

"I think I like this place." You whispered with a reciprocated smile. "Too bad it isn't downtown."

The massive male stole a spoonful of your oatmeal and slid a muffin towards you. "We can still come here on special occasions..." His voice drifted and as happy as those words made you, you knew he most likely meant 'after really, really crappy days when we want to break shit and probably kill ourselves'... 

The meal was finished, goodbyes were exchanged and you walked back to the American muscle. Landing on you seats and closing the doors, he took your hand from your lap, rubbing his thumb over your own.

"I know I had only mentioned one place, that was the plan but... can I take you somewhere else?"

You hesitated, hated when anything deviated from the original plans. He knew. He felt it. So his hand remained on yours, affectionate, soothing. Agitated irises running across the interior panel, not really taking anything in, just trying to expel the anxiety. Then his ample paw encompassing yours entirely.

"People...?"

"Not that many at this time of the day, I presume."

You considered his words and his grip, ended up nodding. With a slight squeeze, his palm abandoned yours and focused on driving. It was a fifteen-minute short trip to a park. Exiting the car, you paused, admiring what you could perceive from the curb. This was for sure unexpected. Kylo was bent in half digging in the trunk during your reflective moment, joining you with a wrinkled, balled up throw and urging you forward.

Roaming about, you noticed a good-sized playground with a number of small kids, not old enough to be in school, the parents and nannies monitoring them from the surrounding benches, some even in the sandbox with the ones too young to be unattended. There was a lovely pond, water scintillating under the sun like blue tourmaline. Within five yards, scattered ash and various species of maple trees forming a respectable grove was the location calling to you. Two figures in black spread the blanket over the neatly kept grass and sat centered. He leaned back on the heels of his palms, legs stretched ahead, crossed one over the other. You, tiny next to him, feet laced under your thighs, eyes closed in appreciation of the soft breeze rustling the leaves above you. 

You rested quietly. Around you, birds animatedly chirping, the laughter and squeals of the children still in sight, that late Summer taste lingering in the air. Lowering to his elbows, Ren slid his shades down his magnificent nose, peering above them in your direction. You turned to him, before laying on your stomach, drawing your bag to your head and reposing on it. Assured you were content, himself feeling at ease, he glided the sunglasses back up and positioned the waterfall of inky locks next to you.

His deep hum of a slow song inundated and elevated you above the exosphere, bleeding through space, where satellites dance around with celestial bodies and paralyzing woes almost transform into trivial fears. Almost. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am one with old American muscle cars.  
> Can I get a woot-woot from my fellow lactose intolerant peeps?
> 
> The visuals for this chapter:  
> Ren's ride: [here](http://tinyurl.com/h9kb5gd)  
> Food: [Oatmeal](http://tinyurl.com/zouhdky), [Salad](http://tinyurl.com/glta6mj), [Muffins](http://tinyurl.com/h6tybde), [Eggs and Smoked Salmon](http://tinyurl.com/z664uk7)
> 
> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	9. Foray

The beginning of the month could not have come _slower_! You had been counting the days, preparing, anticipating. Like in every trip, you stressed over taking everything that was necessary or could prove itself to be needed and stripping your luggage as much as possible. Never an in-between...

A duffel was all you wanted to take. For fuck's sake, you refused to be **THAT** person who carries a multitude of bags just to go around the corner. Even if 'around the corner' was 'cross-country for about a week and a half'. Your eyes rolled at yourself, bag check for the last time - toothpaste and toothbrush; wallet and documents; assorted personal hygiene items as well as basic makeup necessities (ha, 'basic', who were you kidding?); three tanks, two t-shirts, one bulky cardigan; two pairs of jeans, a pair of sweats and another of comfortable shorts; a mid-length, casual dress; one bra, five pairs of underwear, two pairs of socks; your favorite sandals, your preferred sneakers. The clothing items would get washed and rewashed, no need for too much.

_"This is still a lot of shit..."_

Then you looked yourself down, on your PJ's. And sighed.

"Dumbass..."

Removing your clothes, you jumped in the shower and kept your hair away from the hot stream of water fogging up your mirror and the glass case, the music playing on your laptop subdued by the rain falling at your feet, yet you still sang along. Shower taken and skin moisturized, you shivered out of the bathroom to pull a top, underwear, socks, jeans and the loose-knit plus your black sneakers from your bag, reducing the weight considerably. Still, you were quite happy you packed like a Navy SEAL, everything rolled up and diminute space to be taken... which was quickly overridden by your toiletries. But hey, you chose your battles.

Carry-on zipped, hair combed by excited, shaky fingers, a shuddered puff of air released through pursed lips. Your phone vibrated with a text.

_"Lock and load!"_

You smiled, wide. He seemed to be in a good mood.

Laptop unplugged and shut down, mobile thrown in your back pocket, duffel, shades and keys in hand, your feet took you through concrete stairs and concrete sidewalk. The mid-morning sun attempted to warm a chilly breeze that surfed among the tall city buildings, light rays bouncing off the immaculate onyx paint job of that Dodge with the passenger's door open. You shoved you bag in the trunk, removed your cell from your jeans and placed it atop the middle console, before setting into your comfortable seat.

Ren stared at you, sunglasses pushing his hair back, smirking before he dove mouth first onto your neck, gaining a loud-pitched squeal from you.

"Hmm, let's go." Hand twisted the key in the ignition, while he pulled away and repositioned the shades over his hooded eyes.

Soon you were reaching the highway, first stop the Liberty Bell and the Rodin Museum in Philly, only a couple of hours away. Parking three blocks further, you walked there, got in with the crowd and stood in front of the iconic symbol. You stood, arms stretched with phones' cameras pointing at it, blinked, breathed, looked at one another.

"This is starting well."

"Museum?"

"Museum."

About fifteen minutes after, you were paying for admission and entering something you were quite thrilled about. As the talkative visitors drifted along the walls, eyes and hands pointing at the marble scenes depicted on the waxed floor, the gloomy pair of you hovered around the sculptures.

You stopped in front of _L'Éternel Printemps_. It was everything to you. Like The Gates of Hell, all illustrations of Dante's _Inferno_.

And it wasn't just that, as if it wasn't enough...

Ren had never kissed you. In six years of knowing each other. In four years of... whatever it was you had. Not in public, nor in private. His mouth had been everywhere on you.

But there.

You jerked your senses back, watching the exorbitant morose divinity standing in front of a cast of _Les Bourgeois de Calais_ , who looked down beside himself, his head then twisting to both sides before turning around, eyes scanning the horde until they set on you. Closing the distance between you, hands in his kangaroo pocket, you agreed on returning to the car and finding a place where hummus was served because, holy shit, you could drown in a tub of it right then.

Finding a place not too offtrack, you had a late lunch before driving all the way to Ohio. Your nonsensical banter helped keeping boredom at bay, and as the five hour driving straight mark was hit, he exited the Interstate before leaving Pennsylvania and pulled into a gas station for you to stretch your legs and use the restroom. The numerals on your phone read seven twenty-three in the evening, and after guiltily purchasing a couple of candy bars you replaced Kylo behind the wheel for about two hours and a half more, until you decided to stop at a roadside motel just outside Columbus, paying close to sixty bucks for a huge, bouncy bed, an old TV and a mini-fridge, not much else. But you didn't need anything else, anyway.

Setting your bags down, the both of you inspected the room, mentally nitpicking. Then the sore giant let himself fall onto bed, while you took a quick whore's bath since you had showered that morning, the man switching spots with you as he washed up and you removed your cell charger from the duffel and plugged it in, getting in bed after, mindlessly scrolling and checking activities for the following day.

When Ren crept back in from the bathroom, he also placed his phone to charge and made himself comfortable, lying next to you. After a while, his fingers twitched on your thigh. You glanced down at the prurient look he had going on - geranium billowy, silky lips not quite divided, every slim indentation over their expanse causing them to protrude even more... Nose, long, strong, such a remarkable attribute amplifying the honeyed allure of his imperial countenance. The lustrous lengthiness of his locks, cascading waves as tumultuous as his identity, thick satin, soft hessian, cimmerian burden on his shoulders. His eyes, sublime almond, deep-set ones, with an intensity that shook your soul and robbed you of your breath, abysmal oceans of passion contesting the rage and colors of Mosi-oa-Tunya, always so much more revealing than his wishes, the compulsory phlegmatic mask attempting to give nothing away, broadcasting apathy when he simply felt too much... The emotionally overwhelmed introverts. Two of you, swimming and drowning in a bowl of anxiety. His alpine barbaric structure, sculpted by strenuous spectral hands, exuding his supremacy over you, _ad infinitum_. And the constellations covering his skin, the systems mapped on his face, holding all wonder in perplexity like a sphinx, mesmerizing magnetism...

A god.

 **The** **god**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The visuals for this chapter:  
> Rodin's sculptures: [L'Éternel Printemps (Eternal Springtime)](http://tinyurl.com/hpobqd7), [La Porte de l'Enfer (The Gates of Hell)](http://tinyurl.com/zj5k27k), [Les Bourgeois de Calais (The Burghers of Calais)](http://tinyurl.com/jknao5m)  
> Mosi-oa-Tunya (Victoria Falls, Zambia and Zimbabwe): [here](http://tinyurl.com/zrkc5kl)
> 
> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	10. Coalescence

Six in the morning and that counter was practically begging for it.

With your ass hanging into the sink outside the bathroom, legs spread wide and hooked over his elbow pits, you were leaning back onto the mirror as you watched his tremendous cock ruthlessly pound into you, your entire body pulsating, his muscles rigid, flexing, all of him bulging, tightening, bellows disgorged from the bedrock of his chest tinged in pink. 

The mountainous male utterly bewitched by the view of your glistened, reddened entrance taking him time and time again, folds moving with every intrusion, slick thoroughly coating him and the sounds - piercing squeals woven with sloshing tempo of skin slapping skin. His carnal cries converting into sublime sugary sighs, completely ruinous, when a hand shot up to the mirror behind you, steadying himself, all nine inches of him shoved in your cunt, mouth hanging open, yet no sound produced, agonizing expression furrowing his brows. Those five small lines between them deepened, eyes barely open, yet on you. You savored the long, lewd hum that spilled along his seed, hips thrusting slowly before picking you up in his athletic arms to lay you in bed, removing his member still fully hard and kneeling before your debauched state, dilated, oozing, and inserting his lengthy, soothing tongue in you, dragging and slurping as much of your combined juices as possible, swallowing some before crawling over you, blocking your vision completely and letting his spit trickle into your own expectant cavity, leering as you gulped the mixture. Then the titan took a spot next to you, pulled one thigh across his lap and with the pad of his fingers worked your needy clit in circles. 

All you could see was him.

Wiping the wetness running down your bottom, he brought it up to saturate the aggravated nub, furiously jerking it side to side, his free hand curling behind your neck and bringing your face closer to his. You could feel your yelps being plundered by him, like Harpocrates consuming sound, becoming your renewed strength, the beginning of a new day. Your unrestricted leg and back bolted from the mattress, whipping up, his elbow digging on your other knee to keep you gaping, one crude moan and your throat was silent, dual distressed complexions that could practically **hear** your orgasm, mouths suspended wide.

"Fuck..." The giant meagerly muttered.

Then not receding, hounding, clawing one more out of you, the aftermaths prematurely replaced by another climax, your hands mashing his rib cage, cushioned pectorals, jagged sharp fangs gnawing on your heartbeat, flesh engulfed, trailing to your right breast, vampiric footprints.

And every molecule froze for seven seconds.

Seven seconds that felt like seven millenniums, when reality tore them to seven thousandths.

Two clutched bodies, tense, not willing to disconnect.

Until you both started trembling, fibers in need of rest, a daunting exhaled wail tearing from you, able, empathetic, ornamented limbs effortlessly rolling and draping you over him, as the bed shook not from lascivious ventures but pith demons from the marred encephalon.

The rooms boarding yours must have been unoccupied.

 

*

 

Kylo jerked awake, causing you to jerk awake.

The morning star flooded the area and hit you straight ahead, since you had laid across the mattress.

You stared into one another before deciding to get up and get ready. 

He loaded the car while you went to the reception to return the key. Two hours of hungry stomachs ensued down the interstate until you reached a diner where you could chomp on some eggs and pour some much needed coffee down your soul. During that, he was on his phone purchasing tickets for the day's activity, where you drove to for not even twenty minutes, after lingering in the restaurant, waiting for its opening schedule - the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center.

You recalled one of History's most painful period that still had tentacles everywhere nowadays, watched informative and illustrative short films, admired the grieved paintings, the uplifting and uproarious art. You both ended up acquiring books in the gift shop to further your enlightenment and upon returning to the vehicle you placed an online donation, getting behind the wheel yourself.

Taking the I-74, you drove out of Ohio straight to Indianapolis in about a little more than two hours, catching some traffic due to an incident, nothing major. You passed the Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument and had less than an hour and three quarters to visit the Eiteljorg Museum before closing time but you were adamant on attending at least the year-round exhibitions like Mihtohseenionki, understanding the native peoples better, marveling at their art and customs and enjoy the collaboration of all artisans of old and new days. You were passioned about it and couldn't stop beaming when seeing the gigantic fridge-of-a-man next to you so engrossed in everything surrounding him. You stayed till the doors closed and needless to say, a donation was made. This trip was accumulating costs pretty fast, but you simply needed to give, to do something, at least this way. You were aware it was like supplying a couple more particles in a small puddle in the middle of a desert... but those were your particles.

Kylo's turn to drive three hours to the State border to stay at a sleazy motel. You were lucky to get in at eight forty-six, parked the car in the inn's lot and walked a block to see the food offer. Not good. You chose to step into yet another diner, since it didn't look too crowded and ordered a vegetable stir-fry each, which were probably the quickest option that didn't involve bread, or breaded something, or deep-fried... oil... argh... You felt kind of nauseous, been a long day with a pair of museums under the belt and a whole State crossed. Both left the majority of the rice untouched and finished your waters, when a tired-looking however still bubbly lady approached to remove your plates and ask if you wanted any piece of their specialty cream pies. You were surely drained because there was never a moment in your life where you had to hold your exploding laughter so hard in your throat, eyes always set on the woman, in your peripheral, Ren's shoving his hands around his mouth pretending to cough. You were thirteen-years-old in that very moment.

"Nooo, no, thank you. Just the check, please."

With a pleasant grin, the lady left.

Ren laid his forehead on crossed arms.

"... oh... I can't breathe..." And restarted laughing.

"You're tired. You. Are. Tired." You sentenced, also giggling.

Check came, was paid, soon you were free of the inquisitive and judgmental looks of a waitress and a cook in an industrial area of Indiana. Strolling back to the car, yawning, you took out your bags and opened the room's door.

"We're going to get murdered."

"By a ghost of the early 90's."

You couldn't exactly explain why you were disgusted by the cot: it had one of those frail, super colorful, jungle patterned bed spreads, with huge leaves and parrots. 

"Fucking parrots..." You threw your duffel onto the chair, he placed his on the desk. Then you just looked around and at each other.

"I... don't know why this room is more expensive than the previous one."

"What...?"

"Yeah, $78 with tax."

An obnoxious huff was expelled through your nostrils.

All because you were headed up to Chicago. Both of you had been there multiple times in the past, never together though. But you'd visited the museums and parks. This time you wanted to admire something that had flown under your radar and he had some place he would like you to see. At least after this you'd be driving through States where there would be more room to breathe. 

You hoped.

"So... how about that cream pie...?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking parrots: [this bullshit](http://tinyurl.com/zw4sn3f) that looks similar to [this other bulshit](http://tinyurl.com/z6lzm24) \+ extra yuckily suspicious
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	11. Velleity

Kylo parked across the river, about four blocks away from where you'd be soon visiting while you Yelped interesting breakfast joints, letting the huge shadowy spot in your vision field guide your cell-set eyes. You caught yourself when you noticed the very top of your phone case standing five millimeters from his black cotton encompassed elbow. Lifting your eyes from your screen, you quickly scouted the front of the quirky coffee shop and advanced towards its interior, pocketing your phone.

"Whoa, they have a boombox!"

The hulking man chuckled mutely behind you, the air expelled from his Roman nose resonant, massive, insecure hands shoved in his hoodie's pouches. The spot was puny, picturesque, rustic looking. You both interpreted the menu, contemplating coffee, however couldn't go past one of the items the house considered a specialty: the Alchemist. Just the name alone had you. So you ordered two and asked to have soy milk instead. The guy behind the counter was uncommonly nice and you paid for your smoothies, while Kylo sat on a table close to the register, waiting for them. The cashier made small talk, preparing your order, asked if you were out of town, if you've ever been in Chicago. You answered, fraudulent confidence splattered on your mask, Hercules quiet. As soon as he spotted the blends about to hit the surface of the counter, he stood up and wrenched them, exiting and sitting on the outdoor wrought iron bistro chairs instead. You chased after, the friendly dude wishing you good luck on your travels, as you simpered on your way out, settling in front of the sulking giant nursing the fruity drink. 

Breakfast went by in relative quietness.

Then strode to the Bahá’í House of Worship, mobile in hand, ready to capture the architectonic wonder of the arabesque panels composing the temple's dome and the pools echoing the kaleidoscopic tones and foliage planted in the extensive gardens. You were marveled.

Crossing the river to return to your vehicle, you checked the time and thanked him for accompanying you to the sanctuary - you treasured the different engineering influences in the world. He rumored a 'you welcome' under his breath. Unrequired gratitude and unrequired acknowledgement. Next stop, Rockford!

Pulling into the half-full parking lot, you could make up a large _torii_ gate, but an odd one - almost resembled a Korean _hongsalmun_ , although with a gable. You looked over to your companion, squishing his lips together as he removed the keys from the ignition, eyebrows shooting up, eyes blinking at you. You restored your attention to the gate, scanning the atmosphere.

"Where are we?"

"You'll see."

Evacuated the car, stopped by the visitors center to pay for admission and entered...

The landscape! The hues! The adornments! You spun on the ball of your heels and took it all in - such a beautiful place, greens and reds and yellows composing the fresco that was the garden's canvas, rocks and ponds and waterfalls, koi and minks and ducks! You crossed the main bridge and wavered once you hit the large Strolling Pond, a vast section dotted by wispy blue flowers among the grass, the reposing lagoon holding captive the listless fluid, a gentle yet piercing gust disturbing the inertia of both water and hair. You breathed in, deeply, wholly, and resumed your promenade.

Not many phrases were exchanged, appreciating the harmony and stillness of it all, glaring at louder visitors as if they would disappear if only you wished upon it hard enough, gelid hands dangling at your sides, a glow bubbling in your rib cage with the tranquil march over dirt and gravel, wooden bridge, grama. You passed the larger lake, Garden of Reflection, bordered by so many transients there was nothing about meditation there. Arriving at a dead-end, the colossal male halted.

"Do you like it?"

You closed the distance to his flank with three large, wacky steps.

"I love it."

Leisurely, his left hand abandoned the cradling pocket and imperceptibly brushed against your coated forearm on its way down, before moving his stance to your rear, both paws deliberately stroking along your arms, closing around your waist and taking your extremities with them. His frame warped over yours, hips against your spine, face buried in your neck, the hot breath and cool nose contrasting on your warmish nape, everywhere his body touched yours being pressured.

"Your hands are cold..."

"You know what they say..." A chill swept your insides.

Nimble limbs whirled you in place to face him, his knees slightly bending as his beak traced across your west cheek, along your nose, velveteen huffs mixed. His chapped, sepia-cantaloupe colored and pliant lips pressed on your chin, just below the right corner of your mouth, trailing on your jaw, passing by the throat and gently sucking on the skirting flesh, earning a few mournful and rousing whimpers, vibrating against his yearning entrance. The strong traveling hands manipulated your shape at will. 

Leaves were stirred by a small creature.

"Let's go."

Immediately regaining his sobriety, he pushed his hair back and pulled you to his side as you restarted walking, letting you go once the first people were sighted. You decided to have lunch at the Garden's restaurant prior to leaving and felt quite satisfied with their food and non-alcoholic beverage offer. You were such pretentious pieces of fuck.

Your turn to drive, taking route 20 and merging with the 151 to avoid paying yet more tolls and adding an extra thirty minutes to your trip. But you didn't mind. The radio was humming to the renowned sound of The Eagles, while you drove through Des Moines and aimed at somewhere beyond the capital to stop and rest. Ren on the coordinates, advised you to take the following exit and to turn left. You continued past a cemetery and spotted the very definition and illustration of a motel but carried onwards to the closest gas station. Turned around afterwards.

You parked, cracked your neck vertebrae and asked the monstrous mass if he could go ask if they had vacant rooms. You didn't want to talk to anyone. Night had fallen and he left and came back in less than ten minutes, opened your door, exaggeratedly hauled you out of the car with Emmy-worthy sound effects, clumsily making you grab your bags and hyperbolizing how heavy you and everything was. Letting you fall onto your feet between himself and the door, he inserted the key and opened it.

"Oh, wow."

Two double beds.

You got in and secured the lock, putting down your satchels. No distinguishable smell, that was a plus. The giant laid down in one of the mattresses. His feet hung out. 

"At least there are two, I can sleep on this one, you can... diagonally? Good luck." Your giggles made his eyes roll back.

Coffee pot on top of a gray speckled counter with a sink, mirror and hand towels, to the left the bathroom, to the right an old white microwave on a small, dark wood shelf above a more modern mini-fridge... with a sticker of the American flag.

"Oh-kay", you mumbled.

"I paid for two nights."

You sighed. In relief, really. You'd been seeing so many people, been going to so many places, you felt like a meltdown was about to surface. At least you could stay put the ensuing day. 

And that was all you wanted to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	12. Aphasic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack  
> TW: drug mention  
> TW: love

You couldn't sleep that evening.

The late night's silence wasn't absolute - far away you could hear a **steady** drumming.

Like clockwork.

 _Tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc_.

Like a cartoon bomb.

It was driving you insane and there was no way to stop it.

Then someone in the next room used the bathroom. **Loud** toilet flush.

The **incessant** popping noise of spongy pillow stuffing on your ear.

You moved, stomach towards the ceiling, mouth dry as paper.

Static. Energy **buzzing** in your head.

Your body folded in half, back shooting up, lungs working three times as fast, heartbeat thumping against your rib cage.

**So. Loud.**

**So. Painful.**

You could feel the blood **inflating** the vein that spans from your left nostril to above your left eyebrow.

Brain **throbbing** against the right side of your skull.

Kylo woke up with your hyperventilation as if someone had pushed him off a balcony, hands scurrying to you, the outdoor lights faintly materializing through the cracked heavy curtains, letting you both envision each other's silhouettes.

Your bronchi were going to **burst** , yet you couldn't gulp enough air.

The man ran to the sink and opened the faucet, letting a white hand towel soak under the maximal pressure, wrung it out and set it over your bust, trickling down your stomach, his cold water coated fingers running along your forehead and temples.

He sat facing you, long, muscled legs crossed under his weight.

"Stay with me. It's okay. It's okay. Everything's okay. It's okay." His words unrelenting, accentuated, booming. "Breathe with me." He pulled the covers from your own tensed limbs, allowing you to move as you pleased. Then set his arms stretched wide open to his sides and started moving them in tight circles, the mattress bouncing under his physique. "See what I'm doing? Do like me. And breathe iiiiiiiiin... and ouuuuuuuuut..."

You obeyed every instruction. This was far from being the first time. 

Soon your arms were drawing looser circles, growing tired, your respiration slowing down. It was his turn to replicate your rhythm.

And always _it's okay, it's okay, everything's okay, it's okay, breeeaaathe, breeeaaathe_.

You let your arms stop, Kylo removing the towel from your shoulders, and lifelessly you turned to your pillow, crushing it so severely in your hands as your body curled over it and laid down, crying with everything you got at that moment into the malleable headrest. He threw the damp cloth with a noisy, sopped thud towards the counter and laid next to you, shrouding the pair of you with the sheets but staying at a distance.

You shed all the tears you had to shed. Then unwound and uncoiled your body, turning to him, advancing, head nuzzling between his armpit and the bed.

He smelled of his deodorant and a tiny hint of himself.

After a while he spoke, bass whisper.

"Were you sleeping?"

Your only response was a lazy head shake.

He combed some of your hair off your face and turned onto his back, putting his arm down between your forms, while you also got on your behind, the backside of his fingers faithfully fondling your thigh, your nails finding his wrist.

 

*

 

Morning came and the colossal caregiver rose and organized himself, wordlessly, pulling jeans over robust lower limbs, t-shirt and jacket covering the broadness of his build, boots encompassing solid feet. He lifted the keys from the bedside table ahead of you, your eyes wearily following his gesture, his hand hovered on your elbow hiding under the spread, returning paralleled.

He exited, locked the room.

You wiggled deeper in the warm nest.

He sat in the car, searching for a place where to get a meal from. Eight minutes into it and he input the address onto the navigational system, the lady's voice telling him to drive to the highlighted route. He took about twenty minutes to get to a nearby town, another small one, everything there was disperse, far, lacked options. Arriving at the shopping center and having passed by way too many churches and great stretches of nothingness, Kylo entered an endearingly named place and got a hold of some bacon, hash browns, peppers and eggs with toast before returning the same way he drove through. But instead of pulling into the parking lot on the left, he turned into the one on the right, a supermarket's. Quickly went in and scouted through the coffee and tea isle, picking up a bag of spearmint tea and running away from the scanty bean brew section. Hunching his shoulders, he split to the register, paid the wide-eyed young blonde and returned to the vehicle, exiting one last time, less than a minute after, in front of the room.

Your eyes opened once more when you heard the fumbling noise of key grinding on keyhole before the lock retreated, the mid-morning sunshine breaching into the obscured suite. Kylo set the bag on the unused bed, your heated feet hitting the ground and leading you to the hefty, opaque drapes, unblocking the day, the brief, irking sound of plastic as the man discarded the covering, his shoes coming off at the same time, jacket following.

Sat. Ate. Cleaned.

Infusions were prepared.

Watching the spectral fluid dance of smoke emanating from the tumblers cast side to side, the noises of engines and shoe soles were prevalent. You moved and closed the curtain a bit more, restored to the dented mark on the mattress. He lowered to the floor in between your thighs, while your digits sunk in the softness of his strands, massaging his scalp, his palms searching for your ankles, clasping your knees over the expanse of his strong shoulders. You smoothed and played with his curls as he purred, sectioning his hair and interweaving it. After forming four loose plaits, you slid down to Ren's lap, removing the elastic band from his wrist and tying the tails together, allowing them to meld with the remaining cascading locks.

You regarded his complexion: the slightly darker and textured birthmark under his left eye, the tiny acne scars that blended with his rarely sighted expressive smile, the large muted cicatrix crossing his visage on the right, the charming big ears with different orientation angles - he was so insecure about them, one of the many reasons why he always wore long hair. His rugged paws settled on your hips, tenderly fondling your butt, your fingers capturing the entirety of his raven tendrils in a makeshift ponytail, chin dropping in minor shame, a puny 'no' bypassing the giant's plush strawberry lips, escorted with a simper.

"No... let me see you..." You twisted his hair behind his head in a bun, hands caressing his cheeks, finger pads then massaging the cartilage and earlobes, "you are so gorgeous and aristocratic," digits sleeking the delicate fibers on his eyebrows, "intense. And caring. You are. Do you see that?"

The aperture of ferroaxinite hybridizing with ores of copper in rivers of rutile quartz in some days, a kaleidoscope of browns and tamed greens in others, a true chasm into his soul - his titillating eyes, penetrating your every atom.

"You're made out of... stardust!" You spread out your arms, before resting your palms over his stomach. "Cocaine." A deadpan, wide-eyed look on you, a grin shattering it after.

"Seems like it..." His brows up in amazement, a saturated sly smile daubing his lips. "You're made out of the same stardust..."

A long and thick pointer delicately grazed along your cheek, centering atop your throat before reaching the valley between your breasts, becoming aware of your complete nakedness and his utterly attired status. The naturalness of the liaison and the mourning of your sentiments conceded no room for stigma. You leaned against him, the tips of your digits skimming on the soft jaw line, his limbs clasping behind your back, a warm thumb circling pores on your lumbar spine.

Tilting your head up, your nose brushed against his neck and you sniffed the hypnotic aromas of _fougère_ and warm bergamot oil emanating from his skin, gently placing pillowy kisses over the darker spots across the nape until you reached the jowl, all the while your hips rocked lightly atop his legs, the zipper on his bulge providing you more than enough friction.

Yet, you needed Kylo to fill you.

Soliciting fingers undid the heavy, black leather belt, buckle lowly clinking, his clothed chest rose and fell in deep breaths, eyes ever evaluating.

"Please. Please..." Barely any sound left your cords, brow ridge twitching.

The titan quietly allowed you to proceed, your nimble fingers undoing the metal button and slide fastener, whole hand pressing and squeezing along his length, feeling it hardening under your touch and uncovering it once you couldn't wait any longer. You held it straight up and inched forth on his lap, ascending and consciously fighting your contracting muscles, then letting your body down, the massive solid glans not able to enter you till strong paws hoisted you by the junction of ass with thighs, knees leaving the ground. The head wedged in, his eyes closing shut, lips pressed together, respiration flittering, a half-muffled whimper in the back of your throat. You leered at each other, your lasting moan flooding his brain as the sizable shaft followed after, stuffing your pining cunt to the seams. Smooth opulent lips snugged on your bust. Rugged, tough hands supporting your back while he kissed your heart.

Your feet hooked inside his thighs, giving you leverage to begin moving. When he pulled back, jaw slacking, the drive doubled. The drowned slap of bodies mirrored the quickened pulses. Or was it the other way around?

You didn't say it. You mouthed it into his ocean-colored cotton t-shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	13. Cavorting

You started driving at night, there was so much brightness your eyeballs could take, plus it was difficult for you to adjust to normal-people schedules. Both of you. So why the hell were you? Granted, worked well with the museum-visiting hours and all, but neither of you wanted to hop from activity to activity, making it rain like you'd won the lottery.

Fuck, you were on a trip with no schedules set by third parties. And you would be doing just that.

An hour after the sun went down, you crossed to the grocery store and stocked up on water, apples and nectarines. You filled both tumblers with fresh tea and left the motel around ten at night, threw your bags on the backseat and drove off. Far less traffic, mainly scattered semi-trailers with drivers pulling all-nighters.

So much better.

Leaving Iowa, you crossed Nebraska following the Elkhorn River.

The radio quietly played _The Killing Moon_ , Kylo with the good hair on his phone, reciting the lyrics, more mouthed than audible, you with the sniffles.

As soon as you reached South Dakota territory, a bathroom break was in order in the first town you saw - yet another one with a church, post office and... that was it. You wondered how peaceful it would be to live in a place like that. And how unpractical. It had been four hours since you departed. Limbs were stretched, volume was turned up and you bounced near the vehicle to the sound of the Foo Fighters' _Learn To Fly_ from beginning to end, the humongous guy lighting up a cigarette and watching your antics, leaning his front against the car before following your lead, jumping around in the middle of nowhere at three twenty-four in the morning, rubbery shoe soles scrapping on concrete, verses sung out loud, mops of hair whipping in all directions for three minutes and fifty-five seconds.

Then you bolted out of town.

Six on the dot when you pulled over in Badlands' area and parked, still dark outside. You exited, went to the trunk to look for Kylo's old weaved wool blanket, throwing it on you and sitting on the floor behind the car. He turned off the radio, pulled the keys out of the ignition, pocketing them, and laid his phone onto the middle console, leaving the automobile and joining you, opening the comforter to its full extent and cocooning both of your frames, a large, robust arm tugging you close and draping over your shoulder across your back, hand resting on your hip, gently scratching and fiddling with the rivulets on your jeans. The morning star wasn't visible but a considerably faint glow was turning the midnight blue sky into indigo into cerulean, the other spheres of plasma no longer outstanding.

"We **are** made of stars..." His eyes infatuated with the cosmos, your right hand finding his own free right hand atop his lap, head adjusting to the broad chest, clavicle poking at your temple every time he inhaled.

You were Nyx and Erebus waiting for Hemera and Aether. Transforming. No. Watching.

When the sun lost its stage fear, you asked the prodigious man to move from the rear of the car to the front, where the light now spread across the rock formations. It was early and peaceful, another vehicle could be spotted on the far left but no one else seemed to be on that stretch of road.

 

*

 

You drove to a nearby small community because you found a motel online, but got there and it looked abandoned, an old lady wearing what it looked similar to a mint-colored _mu'umu'u_ strolling on the opposite side of the street with a cane and a small long-haired mutt, letting you know they had closed less than a month ago. She paused for a minute, looking at both of you. You offered a tight-lipped smile and waved a _thank you_ , got back in the vehicle and got back on the hunt. In a little more than an hour you passed by plenty of RV parks and lodges until you sighted a quaint hotel, already within Rapid City and gave in. It was really early but the middle-aged woman at the desk said he had free rooms and let you check in that forenoon.

Cozy room, pleasant: queen bed with twin nightstands, older-style TV, a round breakfast table with two armchairs and bathroom. The titan walked in, set the bags down on the chairs and stood in the center of the chamber. With the lower ceilings he appeared even larger - an authentic Nephilim, regardless of how much he slouched his shoulders.

Kylo showered while you rinsed your traveling canteens and washed socks and underwear, jumping in the tub once he was done and somewhat impressed to watch him wring the items tighter than you could to display them on top of the AC in the room with no worries of liquid dropping.

"Going to take long?" His voice coming from the room loud enough to be heard over the echoing sound of pressured water falling on fiberglass-reinforced plastic.

"Uh, no! But I need to shave."

"Then 'yes' is your answer."

"... I guess..." You were muttering to yourself as you took the razor and quickly made your way up your body.

The towel he had bound around his abdomen was pulled off and tactfully used to urge the remaining moist off his fresh, fragrant hair, then discarded on the toilet lid. While you soaped your skin, he exfoliated his face, lemongrass and coconut impregnating the air, and filled the plugged sink with tepid water while snaking his arm behind the shower curtain to steal the cucumber extract, witch hazel shaving cream, slathering it and returning it to you. Yeah, he could be assuming and exorbitant with his products and he got you on his train. Eventually you slid the polyester barrier in time to watch the naked god smear the aloe lotion across his stripped skin, splash his palms and wipe them on his towel, handing you a dry one, which was promptly folded around your chest, one arm stretched ahead implicitly calling out for him.

When Kylo sauntered towards you, your forearm hooked behind his neck, causing him to hunch above your much shorter frame, one of his own possessive, powerful limbs encircling your midriff and transporting you to the bed, your nostrils capturing all odors, some mild, some distinct, inundating your senses, emollient. Crawling over the mattress, he disembarrassed the large towel from you, patting your tresses dry with its ends before dismissing it, covering your physique with his and basking in it, massive hands groping your skin, directing your legs to spread and loop around his waistline and just... being.

His fingers traced every inch of your body and he never said a word.

Like he was recalling what was burnt in his memory.

Like those long lost lovers who find each other forty years after.

Or when one of them dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	14. Interregnum

Thumbs over digital keyboard, you added words in front of words, a rushed inspired chapter guideline appearing and laying black bars and curves and angles on the beige background of your notepad app on your phone, back propped against duffels, legs crossed over each other on the backseat, tires rolling across the plain tar proving Newton's three laws, a monotonous, lulling vibration of engine in steel. You were enraptured by your own typographical diarrhea, every now and again sealing your eyes tightly in search of a better term, nails tapping fast against the screen, at times skipping letters, bothersome need to go back and fix it. The hushed Goliath had his blown-out pupils rooted on the dark road but couldn't resist throwing sporadic glances at the rearview mirror.

Finally you ran out of things to chastise your device with, saved the file and locked your mobile, dramatically dropping it onto your thighs, letting it roll down to the soot-colored seat. Your head reposed, folded arms eclipsing your face, a melancholic sigh blowing out your nostrils into the chunky, cozy cardigan and so you abode.

Seventeen minutes after, Kylo was trailing off the road, decelerating, the jittering reverberation of strained gravel causing you to not want to open your eyes, the prickling sensation drowning your mind in its balm. Your eyelids coercively peeled themselves when the vehicle drifted widely towards the right, then tipped its snout, leveling again and stopped. Scouting, you could tell the freeway was above you to the left and further back to the right was a vast parcel of land encompassed by tall, bulky fences, a matching spacious gate with surrounding amber-shinning lamp posts. The headlights were turned off, Ren opening the driver's door and leaving his seat, unfurling powerful limbs and rear before closing the door and circling the car. Your sight followed him to the door at your feet. He carefully opened it, lifting the passenger's seat and contorting his whole body while uncrossing your ankles and tugging towards him, hastily pulling your sweats and panties off - your socks remained untouched. Buckling your knees, he crawled in the backseat between your thighs, discarding your clothes on the rear shelf and undoing the front of his pants, yanking you to his lap, facing him, arm drawing forth to shut the still wide opened door.

You stared in silence at the mass looking back at you, also quiet.

His huge cold paws pulled your tank and bra down, unbinding your breasts from their prison, letting them sit and hold the fabric underneath, skin tight with goosebumps, nipples standing at attention. Fingers traced from your collarbones to your tits, clinging to supple tender flesh with inflated ardor, rolling the pads of his thumbs on the stiff buds, when an arousing yet tranquil moan tumbled out your divided lips, eyes closing as you leaned back.

"Hmm, dirty little one." The abysmal sound of his voice had you parting your eyelashes and smiling.

Hulking over you, his mouth shrouded your right breast, teeth seizing the peak and pulling, this one instantly slipping with his saliva glossing it. Replaying, better edge the second time around, tighter fit, extending your nipple till it hurt so good, releasing it and smirking against your skin when you shrieked in pain, tip of tongue flicking the sensitive and sore nub. Dampened lush lips were brushed gently over it in circles. Then your left nipple, licked, bitten on, stretched, flicked, tended to. Kylo settled his face between your boobs and squished them together, nose mashed on your sternum, a couple of profound breaths taken through it, hands feeling the enlarged fullness of your tits.

"You smell so good. Is your period coming?"

"In... two days, Master Ren."

Clothed arms wrapped around you and tightened your frame against his, face sliding up your chest, that drenching, cajoling secret you drank every time:

"I'm glad we're stuck on this trip while you bleed."

Impetuously, a nip to your chin and he pulled off of you, hoodie and t-shirt being discarded and lifting his thighs with you on them to pull his pants down, yourself propping forward on his chest after to tear them below his knees. The monstrous cock waited erect on his stomach. Your nails scraped uniformly descending his rib cage when he lifted and dropped your body on his member, stabbing every nerve ending on your being, a scream-illustrated expression but no noise, your arms trembling, not knowing what to grab, if able to at all. His own reassuring hands brought yours to the palpitating warmth of his chest, tears spilling from the brim of your eyelids, of which he saw the silvery twinkle of the trails on your cheeks bathed by the moon, still fully plunged in you, cervix compressed by the plump head of his dick.

"You're going to use your words, slut. But first," a large middle digit was brought up to your lips, "suck."

You allowed its access and it immediately depressed on your nestling tongue, moving back and forth as your eyes did not relent from his in the dark, tears cooling and drying on their own. Then he popped it out and snaked that same arm behind you, prodding at your ass, teasing, your eyelashes fluttering.

"Master Ren?"

"Yeees?"

"Am I allowed to move?"

"Indeed you are."

"Thank you, sir."

As soon as that was made clear, your hips began rotating, clit rubbing at the base of his member, grip set where he planted it, his free hand massaging your bottom. Slowly, his lubed finger breached your anus, probing it, Kylo feeling the pressure on his length through the thin membrane. And whimpers escaped you as he started fingering your tight hole. The colossal man slouched his body further into the seat, left knee digging into the leather of the back of the driver's throne, your figure now moving up and down the unforgiving enormity of the shaft.

"Nnnnnuh-so... big..."

"Don't you like it? You take it so well..."

"Ah... I love it, Master Ren. It's all I waaan-t and muh-... much more!"

"Oh yeah? Tell me about it. And bounce harder." 

Head dropped low, shoulders arching forth, trying to avoid hitting on the roof as your hips jerked up and down, the backside of your thighs smacking on his own skin, right hand accompanying your oscillation while downreachingly fingering you, left one diverting from your quivering bottom to your swelling breasts and switching between these, your nails spearing his pecs.

"It-fffills me... completely. It hurts! Buuuht it's soooooo goo-ood."

"Why do you like it if it hurts?"

"B-because I'm a-aaahhh filthy whore who nee-dsss... pain, Master Ren."

"You're **MY** nasty bitch, aren't you? Look at you, aching and still fucking yourself as frantically as you can on my cock... Sickening." Biting his lower lip to the sight of you, he gnawed and sucked on it, head leaning to the side, satiating in your tightness and how both holes cramped around the tremendous member and the squirming digit, powerful hand cyclically and vehemently brought down on the flesh of your ass, uprooting lascivious howls from the gorge of your ghostly grave.

The accelerating barbarity of the display consumed you - self-molesting cunt, merciless dick, exploiting extremities causing the two to pant and sweat and convulse.

"Nnnuhhhgggrrrr... Master Ren!!! Haaa-am I allowed to cum?"

"Yes, YES, cum, cum all over this cock, you fffuh-fucking whore!"

Tipping towards him and applying even more pressure on your throbbing clit as you used his frame, a blinding orgasm washing over your senses, crying and spasming into lifeless stance, the mountainous male then banging up into the slicker heat, racing for his own climax, groaning and grunting, quietening completely, the meagerest puffs expelled erratically by the shell of your ear, his load pouring and filling you.

Kylo relaxed and the most melodic, mushiest hum eluded him.

Sluggishly, he dislodged the middle digit still buried inside you. Your hips rose, his shaft being squeezed out, one large paw holding it by your entrance while the other caressed along your flank, swollen lips splitting as he gawked the glistening globs of sperm oozing, leaking from your pussy onto the expectant member. You pulled and pushed with your pelvic muscles, satisfying his insecure nature you perceived as simply dominating...

Swabbing the remaining trickling seed with the glans, swallowing hard, he lifted his eyes to yours, requesting you to clean it. It was still an order, but his tone much less commanding. And so you fulfilled his desire, crouching to the floor in the backseat to gently envelop his drained bulge in the damp warmth of your mouth, tongue worshiping the soaked, sticky and bitter flavor, gulping it, bodies once irradiating torrid waves now beginning to shiver with the night's mist. 

Stumbling out of the vehicle, you still pantless and him still topless, your clothes were fished out so in the open space you could more easily maneuver and redress, though not before the titan careened you onto the car and devoured you, guzzling all remnants of his cum and of your renewed dripping juices, hips jolting and flinching as you rode his face.

You jumped when you heard howls and barks that definitely did not come from the man but from the nearby field, spurring you both into action, flying to your seats and returning to the road above, bursting into laughter once the fright was left behind. Hands and sleeves cleared the condensation from the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	15. Docility

Far, blaring music outside, perhaps from a vehicle or store, something was happening. Likewise, your inn neighbored the airport. It was still early for you to be waking up, your phone displayed twelve forty-seven, but those have always been the _contras_ of sleeping during the day - the ones in the rat race don't. Your heart was thumping in your chest, beginnings of a headache threatening. You stirred, face rolling to the opposite side, and ogled the man next to you: a splayed giant absentmindedly tugging on his dick, stare fixed somewhere on the ceiling above when his eyes weren't closed, rib cage calmly inflating and deflating.  


He turned his head to you, serene, slightly slanted eyes evaluating your countenance. You got closer to his position and turned on your flank, hand moving over his, delving into the sensations of pliancy and complaisance. The shaft's skin was so smooth. Was always, even while erect but... the softness of it all, you own satiny touch molding to it. You never had the opportunity to play with it in a non-sexual way and you were absolutely fascinated with how much... it didn't hurt him. He trailed along your limb with almond hooded orbs when suddenly you were abandoning his side and wiggling to his genitals, making his still quite generous member flop onto his thighs and lower stomach, loving the meaty, fleshy plopping noise, fully pinching it between your digits and bending it in all directions, looking up at him almost incredulous, Ren snorting a laughter, his abs tightening. You nudged against the inside of his thighs, spurring him to spread them a bit more and went for his balls, his elbows holding the weight he lifted from the bed to watch you examining him. You tenderly pressed a digit from under the sac to its top, wrapping pads around each testicle and delicately moving around, holding them away from his body, laying them on your knuckles as you undulated your fingers, massaging, the sweltering skin emanating an inebriating sudoriferous scent. Then your attention was recaptured on his length and its head and how it marginally protruded when you squeezed the shaft, till your eyes met his and without vacillating you experimented stretching the skin of the glans ever so slightly and opening his hole.  


"It doesn't hurt." He shook his head, lips bound from quietness, voice hoarse from not enough sleep.  


So you looked back at your fingers and did it again, watching the tiny tight slit gaping into a small adorable oval shape. You smiled, releasing. Wetting your lips you kissed it, the bulky male closing his eyes, clenching, the vastness of his mole-peppered pale skin erupting in goosebumps. Restoring to your side of the mattress, the duvet was pulled up to cover the chilling bodies, Kylo twisting towards you, a frigid, rough paw gracefully removing strands from your forehead and cheeks, so daintily you nearly couldn't tell he was touching you. Exhausted soul windows shut, pads delineating your eyebrows, opposing the grain, smoothing over it after, trembling when following the slope of your nose to one of your nostrils, seesawing along the definition of your cupid's bow, the hot humid air blown out of your nose matting his fingernail before middle and index fingers laid on the sensible, sensual organ, feeling every ridge and groove, every parched peeling petal, every moist mote of membrane, searing, thrilling, supplicant, tempting.  


At that point, a ssslow mmotion kiss was held to his fingerprints. And when the middle of your lips parted with the smallest, clammy, popping note, you pressed another one and another one, his brows creasing in despair and lechery, gripping the sides of your skull, practically obscuring you, carnal cinnabar lips imminently brooding over you and him and these things eating his insides, setting him on fire, chewing on his spirit, this surplus of everything and anything and lack of it all. **FUCK** , it was agonizing!  


He moaned, whined, straight up sobbed, and you could witness, sense, the griping emotions, limbs struggling with him and swaddling the leviathan against your chest, hushing and lulling him, when you needed to be quietened yourself, yet hummed, nails softly scraping his scalp.  


Kylo resisted you, repelled it, all of what 'it' was. Undoubtedly, he barely fussed, or your strength would've been absurdly futile opposing his. Nonetheless, his shoulders tensed, trapezius contracting, wrists and heels of palms digging in your stomach, dragging the physique fastened around his neck, surrendering easily when your torso recoiled after an impact on your right breast that shot the sharpest pain through it. He fell limp on the bed in between your arms, flowy ink tendrils obfuscating the exquisite, yet wretched attributes. The folded broadness of his thorax pulsated heavily on the left arm you had sneaked underneath, soon the crook of his nape gliding low to it, fitting like jigsaw pieces, your thigh being brought up to his waist, resting there while his forehead nestled on your sternum.  


Like a kid. Upset and then embracing what he fights against.  


But not fully. Fighting, nor embracing.  


At least this time.  


You were leaving the motel about six hours after, placing your bags in the trunk and taking a short five minute drive to a small Cuban restaurant for nourishment and **holy crap** , everything seemed so delicious at that spot. You settled for _camarones al ajillo_ and _arroz amarillo con pollo_ being washed down with guava juice. However, and thankfully, the portions were huge so you ate what was impossible to keep from spoiling in the car and gathered enough leftovers for dinner, technically breakfast. Or... breakfast, technically dinner... Whatever. You discussed if you really wanted to drive to the southern States and then back up, you considered the loops and stretches and came up with hours but all that was if traffic favored. There was so much to do and see, but you would be unprepared for most of it and time was of the essence. So the pair of you agreed on returning one day. Whenever that was...  


Taking a twenty-minute detour, you took a nighttime wistfully spooky picture of the Pittock Mansion when you got to Portland, then reverted to the I-5.  


"Fuck it, let's go to Vegas. Get us to Reno and I'll take the wheel to Vegas." You finally said after ruminating the thought.  


"Alright, but we're not going to Florida."  


"Uh... oh-kay. I kind of wanted to go there..."  


"We are going there. Just not on this trip." His voice even, but his mug uneasy. You were quiet, letting the words sink, interpreting them, when he ensued with clarification. "I got a call from Matt, there's going to be a thing and we're all supposed to attend."  


"What's 'a thing' and who's 'we'?"  


"'A thing' as a formal function and 'we' as my brothers and I."  


"So where am I in that? Cause you said 'we are going to Florida'..."  


"You'll escort me."  


"When is this happening?"  


"Right after New Year's."  


Less than three months to prepare. Prepare for crowds, for family embarrassments and awkwardness, for... you didn't quite know what else. However anxious, you didn't want to importune, especially that night. Consequently, you pondered on those facts and speculatively envisioned what you would do and clothe yourself with. In the meantime, a sixteen hour commute to the Mojave Desert bridged in the foreground.  


The High Roller. That was what you zeroed in on the Silver City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Food visuals, cause whatever: [camarones al ajillo](http://tinyurl.com/z7yd758), [arroz amarillo con pollo](http://tinyurl.com/jajhtef)
> 
> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	16. Galvanize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: abuse of the French language (with the use of... 3 terms)

Samson lazed in the vast dunes of slung sheets, creased comforter and piled pillows, comatose countenance hooked on your water-gleaming figure, gentle digits segmenting locks, blotting them with a towel. You glanced, wanted to smile, didn't. Instead, you sat at the small round wooden stand and, appropriating the last couple of sunlight hours, steadied the folding travel mirror onto the surface, opened your makeup bag and unfolded the brush roll. You moisturized your face, then your body, lined up the products you wished to use and allowed your skin to absorb the hydration, preparing your canvas for art. That would be the first and possibly the only opportunity for you to wear the dress you packed, so you preferred to do a little something. Your fingertips dabbed foundation on, smoothing it with a fluffy synthetic brush, overlapping it with a fine, translucent powder, a palm-sized quad of earth-toned eyeshadows being played with - lightest one on your brow bone, medium hue over your lids, darkest one applied to the outer corners, fading inwards on both upper and lower moving eyelets, the pad of your ring finger rubbing on the creamier, metallic shade and patting it on the center, delicate stroke to bring out its sheen. 

Kylo studied your ethereal gestures and scrupulous, however expeditious, elections, enthralled by how you refined the shape of your eyes with liquid black ink, a rigorous swipe precisely like _sumi-e_ \- graceful and ferocious. The shimmy sweep of your eyelashes with mascara, selective areas of cheeks being shaded, highlighted, blushed, a minuscule speck of brightness brought to the inner angle of your adorned eyes, reflecting the rays outside as you moved to store all used items back into the small _nécessaire_ , choosing a lipstick and leaving it solo on the table to paint your lips later. You turned to the muted Adonis, choosing dainty accessories to compose your guise.

"Do I look acceptable?"

He surveyed you - in your underwear, made up, hair still air-drying, a thin pendant hanging from your neck, minute studs embellishing your ears. The male's head dips were practically undetectable. Finally rising to his full stature, limbs were sprawled and he trod to the bathroom, getting in the shower. Underneath your tops in the duffel was the loose, floating Georgette frock that you slipped into, straightening the silky fabric in front of the mirror, shaking your tresses.  
Kylo, once ready, stood in a grim, elementary, yet elegant ensemble he so meticulously had harnessed himself in, the surly aura locking around him - such a seductive incubus. From the peak of his monumental height, onyx strands poured over his shoulders, wet waves framing the distant mask, hooded, tilted cinnamon and peanut brown eyes - that day - went from knees to torso reflected in the mirror to you. 

Less than thirty minutes from the best hotel you've stayed so far to the giant Ferris wheel on the Strip! That would have been great if you haven't changed your mind: not because of the elevation, but god damn, those prices were high and they were trying to shove you in a pod with two other large groups and that was not the idea of fun you intended to have that evening.

You settled on walking along the boulevard, skip the sunset and view the lights not from above but right there ahead of you. You paced casually, crowds of overly excited and somewhat intoxicated folks passing you by, impersonators and sharply dressed valets and bellhops, you regarded the slender dissimilarities between uniforms from each establishment. During the course you marveled at the MGM Grand, the Mandarin, the fountains of the Bellagio where you stood for far too long, vivid iridescence and sprays of aqua fluttering and frolicking, Caesar's Palace, the Mirage and the Venetian before you made a U-turn and strode back the way you came from towards your much smaller, yet pleasing hotel.

A short car ride had you in the room in no time. You entered and approached the window, seeing quite the number of guests at the lit up pool, amusement shouts and chatter roaming to your ears. Large, heated paws scudded across your arms, pulling them away from you when reaching your wrists, binding them in a single fist, his other hand leaning your skull to the right, collar exposing to the sodden, eager mouth, sadistic, edged teeth biting, gnawing on your skin, wails and grunts exhaled through you. His shape careened over yours, swaddling you, free hand bluntly closing the curtain.

"Put on a show for me." As soon as his lips touched your ear, he retreated, positioning one of the chairs to watch you, removing the lengthy, thin cardigan before sitting down, left ankle settling on the opposite knee, his proportions overpowering the seat.

You sashayed to the front of the bed, arms snaking above your head, backside of fingers caressing them on the way down to fondle your breasts through your clothes, lowering along the stomach to your center, slowly turning your rear on the piercing eyes while peeling off your smock, consenting the fierce appraisal of all your arches, dips and humps. Spying over your shoulder posteriorly to having dropped the filmy textile on the carpeted ground, you could see the scrutinizing giant stirring in his seat, uncrossing his long, robust limbs, slumping further into the recliner, thighs spreading further, expectant. So you took the two steps that separated you from him and planted a foot atop his knee, taunting digits undoing the clasp of your sandals, imitating the same gesture for the other foot, his sight drinking every move and often casting upon your semblance. Regaining the previous spot as you unhooked the _brassière_ and allowed for both straps to abandon your frame, the prominence of your bust was uncovered, obscured from his gaze. 

Only panties remained.

Torso leaning slightly forth, your hands stroke from the waist to the top of your thighs, then moved up again, squeezing the flesh of your _derrière_ in different angles and with increased intensity. The man's neck rolled and you heard the sharp cracking noise of his cervical spine - his head lolled back then his chin ducked, dilated pupils never withdrawing from your bottom. Your ankles crossed and, with thumbs caught on the material of your underwear, you curved your vertebrae and languorously drew the cloth off your butt, straining it at the crease, a deep, steady inhale behind you. Paralleling feet to shoulders width, you pulled the lingerie down your unbent legs, showcasing all you had for him to see.

And he incontrovertibly saw it - the bright white pantyliner with new crimson streaks. The parted thighs tensed, keen on lurching forward, but he waited patiently, noting how you depravedly spread yourself to him. Possessed, Kylo pounced on you, throwing your body onto the bed, manhandling you to all fours, bringing two harsh blows to the buttocks on display, ripping his tunic off and diving face first into you.

He tore five merciless orgasms out of you, your carcass numb and throat raw from whimpers and screams, finally resumed to silence, no strength left as he kept overstimulating your cunt. The monstrous male didn't even touch you anywhere else - everything went in and on the hot cavity.

But second days were his favorites.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a makeup whore and a Ren whore. Had to put them together.
> 
> Visuals for Ren's clothes this chapter: [outfit](http://tinyurl.com/jeplhwr) and [boots](http://tinyurl.com/z3hscjq)
> 
> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	17. Rufescent

"Mmmmmm **FUCK**! Don't stop, don't stop, don't ssstop-uh!"

It was going to be a good day.

The kind of day you just get plowed out of your mind - literally - and embrace the quietness that follows.

Those were great days.

Kylo pounded you into the mattress, restlessly and ruthlessly. You felt as if it had been going on for hours and wondered how he managed to not cum yet. In reality it had been eight minutes and he was on a particularly well-humored cycle. That, plus you bleeding - he had only started.

You would be staying put that Tuesday, no traveling aside from fetching food. No seeing the Havasu Falls, no photographing the Mission San Xavier del Bac, no visiting the Montezuma Castle that you so wanted to. Only physiologic needs were to be met - breathing, eating, drinking, fucking, bathroom breaks.

"Nnnggghhhuh... Fff-AAAHHH! You're so... **warm** inside!"

It wasn't one of his most eloquent moments, for sure, as he simply stated the obvious, but at times... it was better to leave your thinking hat out of the bedroom. At times it felt good to hear how much he was into it that he could only verbalize what he primarily sensed. Or maybe it just felt good to hear his voice. The deep tone that made your chest vibrate and intoxicated all your senses. Grunts, whimpers, moans that escaped him because of you. There was nothing better.

"Ooooooh, you like it? Then fuck it, fuck it real good, Ren..." Hissing, your fingers rubbed your clit, other hand tangling in his hair, pulling hard, and he got on his knees to aid with both angle and pace. You were going to be so sore the next day. Beyond anything you could fathom right there and then. Nothing else mattered in that moment, but feeling him.

Abruptly, he was removing himself off of you and turning your torso on your stomach, posing you on your hands and knees like you were a featherweight doll, blood-stained cock circling your abused entrance, the cleft of your ass covered in tinted slick like the no-longer virgin white towel you'd steal tomorrow morning currently underneath you.

That godly, hand carved giant kept rubbing the head of his dick on your lips, gingerly, barely there, getting you wetter and wetter.

"Haaah, you are such a tease, Ren... **C'mon!** " You tried to snap your hips to his, large paws controlling them, keeping you at bay.

"And you're not? Parading naked... With those eyes... In your sleep, knee pulled up, accentuating the roundness of that ass..." A deeply rooted growl filled his throat as he crushed your buttcheeks with his fingers, reentering and filling your cunt beyond measure.

" **OH!** " Every word emphasized with a vicious thrust. " **MY!** " The oxygen in your lungs forced out with every move. " **GOD!** " Hitting so profoundly your whole uterus shifted.

This man would kill you. And you were terrified. And you loved it.

You cried with excruciating exhilaration. Ugly cried. Kylo stuffed his load in you, unyielding, some of the viscous seed squirting out of your body as he kept impaling your pussy, the unmistakable lewd sound of air and moist trapped together in a taut channel joining the symphony of animalesque huffs and roars. 

Round one was finished.

He sat by the tall rosewood headboard and pulled you back to him, a faint _'come here'_ leaving his lips as he made you straddle him.

"No... Keep it inside..." He pushed his lasting erection into you upon seeing the mixture of fluids starting to spill from your used hole. His strong arms enveloped you, warm digits ghosting over your spine and shoulder blades, a small kiss to your temple.

While your head rested on his right shoulder, your eyes traveled across the room, noticing his mobile, wallet and car keys atop the rickety, mismatched bedside table holding the hotel's phone and a beige pagoda lamp. You thought about how hideous was the English style, diamond-patterned polyester loveseat next to it. Also beige. That place was very beige.

Kylo shifted his legs, bending them at the knees and bringing them closer to his own body, your butt slipping in between them to settle on the protective towel, unfolding your own lower limbs from beneath you, the gargantuan frame sagging along yours to preserve his flaccid member in the saturated sweltering sheath. All curled up, you laid your forehead on his chest, feeling the pressure of his cheek onto your scalp, his rib cage moving the both of you up and down. He checked his messages, cleared his emails, and you started drifting to sleep. The tiniest complacent smirk passed his lips when he noticed you clenching around his length. Leaning back, he made himself comfortable, soon joining in on the slumber.

A couple of hours into the interlude you felt cramped, painful contractions blooming from your womb, the drowsy state in full-effect, unconscious hands pushing against the warm, solid thorax seeking support to move your body, Ren waking up to you somnolently attempting to switch positions, his strong paws keeping you in place, core tensing and hips inadvertently thrusting inside you, completely hard once again. **That** hurt. He clamped both arms around you and glided downwards to lay flat on the mattress, big Roman nose brushing on your neck, jaw and burying in the scent of your mane, your center rocking together with his. The two of you shifted languidly, him bucking up into you, you grinding down onto him, and it didn't take long till you were puffing raggedly on his nape, hazy whimpers against his skin.

Scrubbing the sleep from your eyes, you hobbled to the bathroom, fluids dripping over your thighs, sluggish giant trailing behind with his soaked dick cupped in both hands, as you climbed into the tub and regulated the spray, him tagging along. You stared down at the crime scene - both covered in coral and peach splotches. Swapping from tap to shower, you crouched by the drain and peed, while he closed in and allowed the water to drench his soft, voluminous hair, trading place and function with you when you were done. Silently, you washed yourselves.

In your peripheral, his hands lathered his anatomy, solid muscles shifting under skin with every rub, digits sinking in the moisture sleeked curls, blacker than ever, shinier than ever, massaging the fresh scents into himself. And you thought about how you wanted that. To receive that, to offer that. How you longed for his gentler touch. For at least a whole day and not the three minutes after sex that he seldom graced you with, not the slow wake-up sex - a full day. A full day of him not hurting you. Maybe even tell you you were pretty.

Fuck these hormones.

You broke and wept as the lukewarm water flushed all foolish famine and yearning down the drain, Kylo already dehumidified and walking to the window with the cloth draped around his waist, conscientiously gaping the curtains blocking the sunlight, eyes squinting. Resealing the real world entry, he faced the wide bed and the tainted cotton spread on it, reeling it in and folding it in half before placing it across the mattress again. Then he met you in the restroom once the shower was turned off, slipping the damp towel from his midriff onto your shoulders and tightening it and you in a hug. Your nose tickled his chest and, inhaling the sweet, clean honeycomb and coconut aromas, your head tipping back, upper arms feeling the heaviness, the intensity of his crushing embrace, you eyes raked the blithe simper visible on the otherwise stoic facet. 

A kiss. Which never came.

He was breaking you in ways he never knew. But you had broken him in ways you weren't aware either.

Fucking cretins.

The remainder of the day was spent on your back, one whopping hand veiling your cunt, bringing you close to orgasm for a little over three hours, sublime torture. And you - enduring, complying, welcoming. The tolerance you both lacked in menial tasks and common feelings contrasted with the tenacity and steadfastness shown for sexuality.

Perhaps you were obsessed with intercourse.

Addicted to each other. And yourselves.

Was clearer than water.

And yet denied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #DatAss was all I could think when Ren spoke. Such shitty choice of words too.
> 
> Careful with UTIs, kids. This leaving-penis-inside-vagina thing isn't smart at all especially if you're having intercourse without wearing a condom like these motherfuckers and/or if you're prone to UTIs. Be smart and safe. Pee after sex.
> 
> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	18. Triteness

Five hours and forty minutes after leaving your previous alcove, you were in Santa Fe in New Mexico, parking close to the museum campus and deliberating which building to visit. Assenting on the History galleries, you were curious to learn more about Agnes Martin, emotionally tortured abstract expressionist painter who was a recluse. How fitting! However, she did believe in happiness and favored the spiritual. Her watercolored works were marvelous but that exhibition was mainly about the artist herself, a collection of portraits showing the last years. Mentally, you added her name for further pursuit when you returned to the East Coast. After all, that was where her career took off.

Leaving the premises on foot, the pair of you admired the Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi, trying to capture a few neat shots of its exterior, the round Romanesque Revival arches and the great rose window above the main bronze door with event-illustrating panels, peeped inside but resolved against entering the nave. Sauntering for about two blocks, you decided to try an inviting little cafe transpiring enthusiastic engrossment with all its indigenous flair represented immediately by the pueblo-replicating architecture. That and the long line of customers awaiting to get in.

There was a pleasant mixture of tourists and locals in the group - apparently that joint was a renowned one. The cheerful banter extended and ended up encompassing you and Talos, questions regarding possible previous attendances, your names, which Kylo had to repeat twice and earned a generic _'oh, that is exotic'_ simply because it sounded familiar yet wasn't, where you were from and if you were a couple, a tittered negative answer provided by you since you felt the need to be the one to answer. Almost as if to ensure Ren that, **pfff** , no, you didn't care, you didn't spend any time thinking about it, not like you loved the guy, what was the question again...? 

He considered you and, taking two steps back, sought the firmness of the restaurant's _façade_ to lean against, lighting up a cigarette. He barely ever smoked but you had seen him do it more often during this trip than in the last three years combined.

Three quarters of an hour were scratched and you were sat in the establishment's elongated centered communal table. That's where they preferred to accommodate singles and couples, reserving the four-seaters and higher for, well, groups of threes and more. Scanning the place, you noticed how it resembled an unpretentious gallery - there were decorated tiles besides various small paintings and sculptures adorning the walls and shelves of the _cantina_ , some art even hanging from the ceiling along its humongous rustic chandeliers, while the mortals feasted upon the appetizing cuisine. Taking a _carte_ , browsing eyes bounced from item to item, a short, feminine digit touching your menu as one of the outside acquaintances indicated the dish she was exulting just minutes ago, a half-forced, half-contained smile being offered to her along with a nod and an eyebrow lift, however continuing to evaluate your options. Ahead of you, the slouching titan in an Aegean-colored t-shirt too tight around his biceps fidgeted in the emerald painted wooden chair, fiddling with the straight barbell in his tongue and distractedly picking on his lower lip throughout the reading of the list. Sensing your sight on him, he landed the hooded, slanted eyes on your face, lowering his hand from his mouth while said lip was pulled inside and wetted, spending two blinks as he regarded you, the seasoned male in the tawny, center-dented cattleman hat next to him removing the accessory and saying Kylo looked as strong as an ox, asking about his height and profession, engaging in conversation. 

_"Strong like an ox and hung like a horse..."_ You tried to curb the chortle wanting to become audible, selecting your food and glancing at the waitress, who then came to take your order with expressed friendliness. You tapped on your mate's hand to bring his attention to the lady so he could order as well.

You couldn't precise when for you were both occupied with the chatty neighbors, however not too long after, your request of a quinoa burger with sautéed mushrooms, sweet potato and zucchini topped with tomato chutney, fried shallots and guacamole on a gluten-free bun and a side of kale was being placed ahead of you and his order of _huevos motuleños_ with sautéed banana, green peas, roasted tomato-jalapeño salsa with a corn tortilla and black beans stood before the man. Both dishes were shared though, on top of a ginger, lemon, parsley, cilantro and kale with apple juice tall drink.

Honestly, tasty food made you smile and even though the dining room was at its full capacity and there wasn't a single quiet soul there, you didn't regret the choice made. All the more, Ren himself didn't look overwhelmed nor too galled as he listened to the old man's exchanges about his business, farms and ranch on the Southern lands, introducing his oldest son who sat after him.

A good hour later you were stuffed and bidding your farewells to the folks that powwowed with you, undergoing the troublesome sensation of weariness - you weren't getting a hotel until you reached Tennessee.

"I'll drive the first five hours but you have to talk to me for a bit so I can get past the sleepiness, man." You had decided it was the least you could do after he paid for lunch.

"About what?"

You got in the vehicle, safety belt clicked in and set your mobile atop the console for the navigation lady to guide you.

"I don't know... Where in Florida is that thing going to be?"

"Fort Lauderdale. In a hotel."

"Hm. One day?"

"No...", Kylo fished his phone from his jean's front pocket, tapping and scrolling before continuing, "Three, maybe four days? You don't have to stay that long if you don't want to, but she's banking it... Might as well just fucking stay..."

"She's paying for plane tickets and four days for all of you?" Your eyebrows raised, trying to watch the road past the sun's glare on the tar, right hand palming for your shades in the car's compartments. 

"If she wants all of us there, that's what she has to do: eight plane tickets and three rooms. And I don't give two shits, she can pay for first class. I'm not flying balled up in economy!"

"But... I can pay for my own ticket... it's to Florida, not to the Maldives."

He eyed you, which you did not see, but indeed felt him boring holes through you, bouncing off the rearview mirror, before the unfluctuating tone of his voice returned.

"No. She's paying. If she wants me there, she pays for me and you. Not like she can't..."

Your breath intake was deep and ragged. Having things paid for or at least not having to repay someone something was foreign to you. You even struggled with accepting gifts. And compliments! It provoked anxiety, as if you were doing something wrong by accepting whatever it was. So you remained quiet and the topic died out. 

Windows rolled down, Ren got as comfortable as possible in the back seat, closing his eyes and, following a fifteen minute mark, you returned to the I-40, driving all the way to a gas station in Groom, Texas. Stopped, stretched. Lifting the seat, you stroke the obsidian tendrils that obscured his features, fingertips tracing his eyebrows, that perfect bumpy nose and soft jawline. You gently dabbed the pad of your index over the slumberous pouty lips, smiling at the vision of tranquility and shrieking when he caught your finger in between his teeth, growling and seizing your wrist, pretending to break it and eat it. Your laughter filled the car.

"Need you to drive now."

The behemoth abandoned the interior of the car, spread his arms above his head standing on the tip of his toes and pulled his hair behind, tying it away from his face and heading to the bathroom prior to getting back on the road. 

Three hundred and forty-five miles after, Kylo was filling up the deposit in the dead of the night. You stirred and opened your eyes, observing the man fueling from behind the glass and the soporific shroud, not moving while he did it, hulking in his hoodie, a light fog all around, discernible against the tall street posts and their beaming lights engulfed by the midnight sky. Restoring the gas pumping hose to its rightful spot, the shivering Goliath leapt in place as an attempt to increase blood flow and body temperature. You finally dismounted the automobile and pulled out your mobile to read twelve seventeen in the morning and a text from your mother to which you briefly replied. 

Your turn to drive, he didn't nap this time, accompanying you in the front seat and trying to book a room somewhere past Nashville, Tennessee, from your phone, his battery dead.

Five A.M. on the dot and you had transversed the entirety of the State of Arkansas with no pauses and were about to cross the Mississippi River to Memphis, where you most certainly needed to stop to appease the indignant stomachs and to attend your basic lady hygiene. 

Everything hurt. Pills were about to get popped in.

You Yelped for appealing breakfast places, knowing fully well you would have to wait at least a couple of hours for anything to open, but jammed some research in, finding something that seemed to attend to your needs and whims, rode there and parked on the street, deserted due to the earliness, daystar spreading over the dark colors above like an infectious disease. Then you just relaxed, browsing their online menu and wishing for time to speed up. 

Fifty minutes to opening and you both left the car, deciding to take a stroll Downtown, seeing people arriving to their work locations, the streets gradually buzzing with flitting bodies, the daybreak losing its shyness and becoming bold. As bold as seven in the morning would allow anything to be.

One minute after the schedule and you were standing in front of the coffee shop sporting the 'OPEN' sign, blinds still being rolled up by an employee, a blonde barista behind the counter as you stepped inside. The place was surprisingly big - countrified main counter, simple-lined chairs and tables, some booths, a tiny stage in front of their company's logo. The speakers played grassroots and glancing to their display, both you and the giant ordered food and coffee, taking a seat far from the windows, uncentered, also distant from the zone where lines would form - arithmetic, statistics, axioms and geometry all at use in less than a blink of an eye to decide where you should sit.

When your breakfast was laid on the table, your tired brain could only think of how early it was for such beautiful dishes to be served. 

"..."

Nonsensical and utterly inconsequential.

So you delved into the crisp, healthy snack and washed your fatigued perceptions and souls with caffeine the equivalent of Shiva himself regenerating you enough to face the remaining four and a half hours to the sanctified lodging awaiting. 

You collapsed in bed, more than twelve hours the following day would be spent traveling back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Food visuals:  
> [Quinoa burger](http://tinyurl.com/jfrqr54), Huevos Motuleños - [version mentioned](http://tinyurl.com/gtetwhz) and another version for you to see [what's hiding underneath](http://tinyurl.com/hbre8fv)
> 
> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	19. Asunder

The last three hours had been spent in somber quietude. You haven't gotten a hotel for the last four States (in Tennessee, the largest, most squash and yam colored room you've ever seen in you life!), switching between the driver's seat and the back one, sleeping in shifts, eating junk off of pumping stations and roadside diners, brushing your teeth at truck stops, jerking off into tissues in the car. You both had two obscenely huge pieces of pie in a one State ago - yeah, the real deal - and you were waiting to get sick. Astonishingly, you never did... during the ride.

Kylo parked in front of your place, turned off the engine.

Silence.

You wanted to go home, shower with no rush, throw your clothes in the washer, sleep in your own sheets and not see anyone or even sunlight for a really long time.

You wanted to go home, but you didn't want to go home.

So you didn't move.

And neither did he.

Whatever this trip had been, it would be over as soon as you stepped out of the car. And while you had that underlying sensation he was sick of spending time with you... well... you were enjoying what was left.

His phone vibrated atop the dashboard and caused you to slightly shiver away from your numbness. He glanced at it, facing down, yet didn't pick it up.

Your eyes danced and scoped around the illuminated street, head not shifting a single millimeter - for nothing, really, you just wanted time to stop.

But it didn't.

"I'll see you around..." He inhaled noisily right before spitting the words, not a question, not a statement. Something.

With no emotion expressed on your face, your hands triggered the seat belt to be released, a low _'yeah'_ being thrown out while you exited the vehicle, taking three large steps and retrieving your luggage from the trunk, walking towards your building without looking back. His jaw tensed and his nostrils flared, two almost extinguished hazel lamps lowering to the hands on his lap, shifting to the old restored factory you lived in only after you disappeared behind the locked front door and lingering for four eye-blinks too long. Turning the key in the ignition, he smashed the gas pedal out of there and you only stopped inside your cave.

You let the duffel drop as soon as you placed the keys in their usual nest, homey scent finally flooding your brain, getting yourself a glass of water and propping your back against the counter while you sipped, eyes lost wherever they were always, somewhere. Setting the cup down, you unpacked, undressed, started laundry and put your toiletries and makeup away, feet pattering on the smooth hardwood floor as you made way to the bathroom and opened the hot water faucet in the shower, pressurized water hitting the bottom of the tub. As you waited for it to warm up, you stood in front of the wide mirror, staring at the foreign face.

You knew her, but you didn't know her.

You had envisioned such different scenarios with different outcomes for your life. None of them came true.

Some had, for a while. Then the rug would be pulled from underneath your feet, people and life jeering and pointing at you while they laughed. **Loud**.

Sometimes you cried, sometimes you didn't.

Your nose was burning inside and you could barely see your reflection from behind the blur, so you guessed this was one of the times you cried. Expressionless, no sound.

You cried a lot, just not in front of people. Well, 'people'.

You entered the shower and opened the cold faucet to regulate the temperature, not knowing if tears fell down your neck for you were drenched by then. You used a different scent of shampoo, different scent of soap, you didn't shave.

Your every move was monotonous and automated. Even when you headed back to the kitchen, finished your water and opened your pantry to see what you had to eat. You closed your eyes, breathing in... and out... and in... and out. Your womb was hurting, like it was out of place, pushed up, a muscle in your right thigh kept spasming incessantly.

You re-opened your eyes, walked to the window, breath fogging your sight of lights, doing it once again but this time on purpose and watching it slowly clear away.

Nothing lasts.

You rolled down the massive blinds on all of the huge industrial windows, turned off the main lamps and sat on your bed, looking at the laptop and thinking how you should transcribe all the files on your phone to it - you preferred retyping everything, many times it would spark a missing piece of a chapter out of the blue. But overruled it. Besides, you didn't want to touch your phone. Your gaze fell on books, but you couldn't focus. On empty, faded apple red brick walls.

Following day would be Saturday, the week and a half trip extended a bit beyond the set plan. It was eleven forty-five. Maybe it was time to get the hammock you had always envisioned going in between the columns across from the kitchen table. Should probably call your mom. You wouldn't, you didn't want to talk about anything, with anyone. You continued to try to occupy your mind with trivialities. Until you ran out of shallow ideas and both the neighbors and the people in the street produced no thought-inducing noise.

Then it was just you and yourself, what you simultaneously craved and feared, the painful duality.

You laid down and flicked one switch off and another one on. Regular lights out, magical lights in. Stretching both arms up, separated fingers waved in front of the pale yellow twinkling bulbs above your bed, turning the lonely studio into an enchanted forest or starry sky. Still lonely, however prettier.

"Pretty, lonely things. Pretty, lonely people. Pretty lonely."

Kylo drove past his area. Just kept going: restaurants, coffee shops closed for the day, convenience stores, twenty-four-hour fast food joints, twenty-four-hour coffee places, massages, grocery stores, galleries, bars, prostitutes, clubs. He drove aimlessly at the speed of a medical emergency, turned left twice, stopped at a red light, then took a right and parked. People strolled to and from a music-spilling, laughter-filled building half a block further ahead.

He finally picked his phone, ignored the newsletter mails and two texts, then looked down beside him to the passenger's seat, blinked. Opening a compartment in the middle console, he pulled a couple of rubbers and pocketed them, getting out of his car and opening the trunk, pulling a fresher t-shirt from his bag and switching the one he wore, a group of four girls and two dudes behind him, observing, one of the chicks cat-calling him, her voice traveling along the road in the nighttime, the tall man looking over his shoulder after locking the automobile.

His feet took him in the direction of the party - an ample room cornered by some very gauche sculptures, in size, color and what they portrayed, or what they were supposed to, as it was abstract, some paintings on the walls equally as exuberant and outlandish, way more explicit, a VeeJay worked as an impromptu EmCee and to the deeper left, a bartender.

Kylo approached and ordered a drink. Not his drink - something completely different from what he wanted. The music was annoying. The people were too many, trying too hard. There were stares and leers and smiles and gestures and eyerolls.

He did the complete opposite of what he wanted.

For almost two weeks you smelled of him and he smelled of you.

You looked down from your ceiling and curled on your side.

He didn't sleep at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	20. Transmutation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: very light stalker-ish Ren  
> TW: self-injury

His muscles were aching. And he was cold.

Kylo sat up, slipping from underneath the lifeless limb across his stomach. He looked around. The sun had to yet come up and the bed he was on was so... not... his...

There were dreadlocks attached to one of the bodies' heads. The other one had a long quote tattooed in script on the rib cage and bows on the back of thighs. He remembered. And he could almost bet they would have infinity symbols either behind their ears or on the inside of their fingers. Didn't feel like himself, he thought.

He felt like he was going to be sick and he really, really didn't want to make any noise that could wake them up. His jaw tensed and he kept swallowing the bile down, only rising when his eyes were used to the settled darkness and picking up what he thought were his clothes from the carpeted ground, throwing jeans and t-shirt on, walking across the room into a corridor and passing by a kitchen to the left and what he imagined to be a living room to the right. There were other doors cracked open behind, but carrying his shoes with his socks inside and balling up his underwear in his hand, he exited the apartment and never looked back to count the exact number of legs he was leaving.

He still felt nauseated, wasn't much of a drinker, refused to be. But the previous night he had been, had been a lot of things.

Shoes on, he looked around, situated himself, then walked to the car.

Thirty-eight minutes later he was parking in his spot.

An elevator ride after and he finally closed the door to that night. Lazily unpacking his bag, all clothes went in the washer, including the ones he just wore, sneakers and boots left by the laundry area - he would take care of them the next day. Carried the smaller bag with his toiletries into the bathroom, stored them, took a piss, then headed to the kitchen. Filled a cup with water, six oh three on the fridge's digital clock, and nursed it while falling on the couch and pulling his phone to him, ignoring the persistent emails, the two missed calls from his mom, one text from Ben, one not from family and checked his pictures.

The last one had been from a mural in Jersey, on the way to the bakery. Colors depicting people of different races surrounded by a cartoonish heart. Before that was Edgar Allan Poe's House and Museum in Baltimore, a picture of the open road somewhere in Virginia when the sun had come up, taken from the backseat, catching one of your hands on the wheel, right shoulder and hair. A truck stop along the I-81 North before leaving Tennessee had been the previous one, where you both sat in the backseat, had a fatty breakfast and talked about trips you had taken and others you wanted to go on, then a video of his own huge paw covered in your blood, fingers moving, glistening, tiny moisture threads connecting them, breaking when shifting, a photo of... nothing he could see, was too dark, but the very muted lines in it caused his eyes to close and remember how it felt to be awake in the darkness of the hotel while you drooled all over his dick. You gave such good head... He sipped on the water, swiping left, next an image of you sleeping peacefully, naked. It took him such a long time to move the sheets away without waking you from your light sleep, but with the faint warm light of the sunset piercing through the curtains in the back, he couldn't resist - on your side, almost laying on your stomach, your left hand by your mouth, the opposite arm forgotten behind you, away from the shot, your shoulder slightly slumped, defining your collar bones, a twisted wave from shoulder to feet, one thigh concealing your heat, left breast half covered by your folded arm. Swiped again, passed an image of the coffee shop in Memphis and another one of the sun coming up by the Mississippi. He went back and searched among the early pictures of the trip and opened one of them where you, aware of the camera, hand on your chin, gave him a side look in a diner while waiting for your order.

He put the cell down ahead of him on the coffee table, head falling back onto the comfortable sofa. He spent a minute there, listening to the sound of the washing machine working, eyes closed, teeth picking on the dry skin of his lips. Forcing himself to get up, he took another swig of water before the glass went flying through the air, smashing right between the counter top and the backsplash, shattering in a million pieces of crystal clear tortuous awareness. The snarl was uncontrollable, his muscle spasming, nude frame starting to shake, closed fists finding his skull and descending on it, hard, once, twice, thrice, roars spilling through locked jaw, knees hitting the hard floor, torso curling over itself, digits pulling on the long, ebony curls, face burying into the cushiony seat. 

Sobs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -fist pump of the head-hitters- <3
> 
> Any HCs related to his physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	21. Awry - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another man shows up.

Been four weeks since the trip. Since you last saw and heard of Kylo. And even though you were a bit hurt, you didn't even exactly know why but you were, and tried not to spend too many moments thinking about him, truth was he occupied the very first thoughts in your mind when you woke up. Then the constant battles throughout the day with your will to text him, to call him and merely go back to the same... but he wasn't contacting you either. That was hurting more than it should, this time.

You walked to the massive industrial windows and observed the people in the street: a tall guy in a crocodile-green parka going into the old, zesty-grass-vanillin-reeking comic book store across the street; an elderly couple sitting by the large window almost fully covered with vibrant menu-like posters in the Senegalese restaurant two doors from the comic shop; a little boy, perhaps three, walking besides his mother while half-dragging a large, blueish puppy plushie, babbling upwards to her, his unoccupied chubby, dinky hand lifted at his side as if bracing against her pant leg. You smiled and peeled yourself off of the vast aperture, firing up the laptop on the dining area and playing music, considering what to munch on while getting some work done.

The mid-afternoon sun glaring through your studio started to cook your brain, feet hooked under the kitchen side chair you were perched on, restless left leg. You fidgeted with about anything and everything around you and on you, from your hair to your sleeves and your mug, fists forming, teeth tonguing, scalp scratching, table tapping, hands reaching out to the mouse five thousand fucking times just to return and hover over the keyboard for nothing.

Your attentiveness was gone, your essay halted. As you leaned back onto the backrest, the incremented breathing caught in the hindpart of your throat, eyes dispersing to a random point on the ceiling diagonally from you.

"What if... I wennnt oooutsiiide?" Came out of you as a lost whisper, as if this consideration shouldn't be heard by your brain, otherwise it would label it as pernicious and cause you to go haywire. No bueno.

Stretching off the hard wood seat, you pondered about returning to physical activity of any kind upon feeling far too many joints cracking and popping, plus that nagging, sharp pain on your lumbar region that came and went. Maybe you were simply rusty, maybe you needed to check up on your kidneys. Fan-tastic. Retracing your way back to the room, you grasped the phone from the bed, opened an old conversation and typed 'hey, what you doin?', pressed send. It was out there.

You turned the sound on on your mobile and apathetically threw it on the bed again, going to use the restroom, thinking about what to wear if indeed you were leaving for the scary outdoors. It was getting really chilly, though sunny nonetheless. Good opportunity for you to wear that oversized bulky sweater you got last Winter - wasn't that cold yet, but you were starting to long for the season's clothes. As you were pulling it from the wenge dresser's drawer, an answer chimed in. Your eyes darted to the mobile sunk among discomposed sheets. There was much more anxiety than you'd care to admit. You opened two texts.

"Hey i'm right around the block at the library screening sci-fi for kids"

"What are you up to?"

Taking a deep breath, your lips pressed on each other and, pulling them into your mouth, your thumbs replied for you.

"Not much. Wanna grab coffee or something after you're done?"

The question was acknowledged with another question in the following seconds.

"Just you?"

You stared at it for a moment, puzzled with the reflections in your head.

"Yep, just me."

The feedback was immediate.

"I'll be ready in 20 25 minutes have to put stuff away after. Make it lunch i'll pick you up"

"Okay, see ya then!"

Your digits let go of the piece of technology they held, instantly being swallowed by the rumpled bedding.

"Alright... So that's happening." You clapped your hands in an anticipative manner, hoping to spur action. It did.

You changed out of your loose, soft lounging outfit to be overtaken by the voluminous cotton knit that partook in the imagery of your projected self for that afternoon, which included a pair of jeans, shoving your socked feet into your shoes, shaking your hair with your fingers in front of the ornated mirror. Shutting your computer down, you uncluttered the place, tried to make it look less... lazy, glasses and cups loaded into the dishwasher, trash bag closed. Gathering your scattered belongings, you silently debated between carrying a purse and solely taking phone and wallet in your tiny lady pockets. Why were pockets barely a thing anymore? You huffed in frustration at the world.

Agitated, you paced around the studio, first inaudibly counting your steps, then out loud, before minutely inspecting the surroundings, if the dining surface was dirty, if the guest bathroom was presentable, straightening your duvet and making it as neat as possible. Scratching items and tasks off that persistent, crucial mental list.

Like it mattered.

Regardless, it helped time pass and gave you a sense of control.

Fictitious, however there.

The door bell rang and for a split second you regretted everything, assumed a fight or flee state, rapidly finding yourself then stuck on the fact that it was indeed the front door and not the downstairs vestibule buzzer. Maybe it wasn't him. Whisking to the entrance you squinted briefly through the peephole, allowing your right hand to rest on the knob while the other undid both cold hardened steel security clasp and chain lock, uncharacteristically fastened. You gaped and sneaked a look past the entryway, slowly widening the breach.

Oh. 

That's why you had thought of him. 

You did see him go in across the street earlier that morning. 

Same crocodile-green parka.

And the widest, most familiar, misaligned teeth smile beamed down at you.

"Heeeyyy! How are you? Been a while!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	22. Awry - Part II

His smile was infectious and instantly reciprocated, unable to control the actions of your facial muscles. He offered a side hug that dwarfed you and you felt the cold that had gathered like a thin film on his coat against your cheek. Parting, he asked if you were ready and, getting your keys while you palmed your pockets to make sure you had your phone and wallet on you, you nodded. Closing the door and leaving your refuge behind, you felt a breeze and smells that weren't there four weeks ago. Seasons had changed but only now were the temperatures catching up. The lengthy legs beside you took only one step for every one-and-a-half, sometimes two of yours.

"Day off?"

"Yeah, been promoted at work and my schedule cleared up a little. Now I have time for side projects and hobbies. And lunch with friends." A lopsided grin appeared on the man's full rosy lips as he nudged you with his elbow, hands shoved in his parka's deep pockets, a cutting gust hardly messing the already tousled, decolorized short curls atop his head.

"Congratulations! You deserve more free time."

Circumstantial conversation was made while you strolled a block and a half to one of the Vietnamese spots you often ordered food from. Luckily, lunch rush was bygone and only three tables had customers, so you could hide in a corner booth, your companion stripping his jacket and dropping his bag on the rounded angle between you. Orders were placed and waters were sipped on as you waited for the food.

"So, how have you been, Matt?" Thumbs snagging on the grown stripe on your nail bed, separating clean and painted surface, the ridge of displaced polish offering you some kind of grounding effect.

His own digits snaked under the lenses of his glasses, pressing on the bridge of his nose, rubbing the right eye before repositioning the wiry frame. "Uhh, been good. Started this small thing over at the library to introduce children to sci-fi and possibly trigger a science interest. It's just movies and cartoons... but..."

"... But it's never just movies and cartoons."

"Exactly. So that was finally approved and in a fantastic timing with this schedule-opening promotion... Been spending some of my weekends with Ben's kids, they've grown so much, they're so awes-how long haven't you seen them for? Like two years?"

"Hmm, maybe more..."

"Aw, man! They don't stop! Here." Matt rapidly scrolled through the photos on his phone and gave you the device for you to see how the twins were. "Keep swiping right. The girl is such a rascal, active, little rambunctious troublemaker. Completely fearless! The boy is an exact copy of Kylo as a kid: shy, very observant, sweet and loving."

 _"Ren was a sweet kid. That's almost funny."_ You mused to yourself, having looked through at least two dozens of pictures featuring both long-dark-haired children performing various activities, in a park, at the pool, at what you assumed was Ben's house, alone, accompanied by diverse family members, then returning his cell to the rightful owner.

"You know, like he can sense how you're feeling."

Both nodded and a deafening silence fell over your table, only to be momentarily broken by the incoming of your dishes, tight-lipped simpers offered along with pleasant thanks. You and the tall man stared at the food, the soul-warming aromas invading your nostrils, in the background a young couple with a very excited toddler spoke joyfully with the owners who popped out from the kitchen. Matt lifted his eyes to you.

"Why did you stop answering my texts?"

On your lips a sad smile formed, a warm, noisy, unleveled exhale through your nose, before you could admit to the truth.

"I ran out of excuses not to go out."

He remained quiet, hopefully compelling more out of you. Which he succeeded in doing.

"It's hard for me to get out much. And I stopped talking to everyone."

"Not everyone." 

Right.

Your eyes fluctuated about the room, scoping faces, details, all blurring.

"Yeeaaah, not everyone... But with your brother being so unpredictable... I-I just thought it was easier for me to stay in... and..."

"Did he forbid you from talking to people?"

"That's outrageous!" A scowl took over your appearance, eyes shooting to the blonde ahead of you, no expression on his semblance whatsoever, looking so much like Kylo at that moment. "It's not like that, I'm... worse..." That last word being declared for the first time, out loud, yet still as a murmur. "So I decided to fall back and not bother anyone. You're an amazingly sweet guy, Matt, and you don't deserve any shit."

"Okay, thanks, but don't I get a saying in this?" You gazed, perplexed as he continued, leaning over the table, whispering, flustered. "Don't I get to agree or disagree with you ending our relationship? Friendship."

Your vision lowered to the plates ahead of you. You couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't cause some sort of scene in the restaurant, your chest rising and falling through your muteness. Matt leaned back on his seat, the sad orbs behind the outdated spectacles traveling from your face to the bowl in front of him to your face again, his hands forming loose fists on top of the smooth surface. His jaw tensed, lips pressed hard.

"Does he hurt you?"

Maybe your lack of reaction prolonged far beyond your original intention, a chill washed down your torso, your lowered eyes only setting on his profile after your meek answer, lip twitching. "No."

Adding to his countenance, his nostrils flared, head nodded, didn't follow up on it. Scrutinizing his incredibly familiar features - the long nose, the soft jawline, the hooded brown eyes, you started focusing on the discrepancies - the bleached hair, the less amount of beauty marks and freckles, the fact his ears were indeed symmetrical, the only visible scars from long-gone teen acne.

"I saw you earlier in the morning. Getting into the comic book store? I mean, I only caught a glimpse, didn't know it was you... perhaps my subconscious knew... What did you get?"

The expression on him did not budge, teeth chewing on his lips, slanted heterochromic ponds of liquefied scorching browns still cast down on the cooling dishes. Silent.

"Matty, please. Please..."

You were desperate for any semblance of normality at that instant, you needed his friendship, you had to have a carefree, pleasant conversation, right that moment. And thankfully, he conceded. He told you about the new series of comics about to hit the stands, the different mangas he had found and got interested in since you last spoke, plus showed you that morning's Blu-ray purchases while the pair of you at last devoured the delicious lunch prepared by the Triệus. The middle triplet insisted in covering for the meal and you exited the building.

"Do you want to come over? For dessert?"

"Uhhh..." Matt's nose and cheeks tinged pink, mouth split, dumbfoundly regarding you.

"Cake. Or ice cream. Whatever you want." He shambled towards you, who were starting to justify yourself. "Can you keep me company? I don't... want you to go yet..."

The towering male held you in a reassuring embrace, planting a kiss on your scalp along a muffled 'okay'. He took you by the hand, picking up a whole loaf of chocolate zucchini bread on the way to your apartment. 

Afternoon turned into night, _Akira_ turned into _Let The Right One In_ , laughter and tears and shivers. Thoroughly chocolate wasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual:  
> [Gluten-free Chocolate Zucchini Bread](http://tinyurl.com/hg4mqwz)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	23. Rapprochement

Was it Sunday?

Thursday, class... 19th was Saturday... He had it right.

Lately it felt like he was losing track of time easily... Exhaustion. Pushing your body and never getting proper shut-eye had its things. But those former two weeks his system seemed to be overcompensating - no rest during the week, then collapsing into a coma for the weekend. And never waking up fresh. That part however wasn't new.

The fallen giant dragged himself out of bed, trudging path to the morning leak, no need to turn the bathroom lights on with all the disgusting, hurtful sun rays reflecting on the sink mirror and bouncing off the shower glass, only to create a luminous environment he wished he didn't have to face yet, but social time measurement told him it was almost three P.M. which meant the morning leak was an afternoon one and he had slept twenty-two hours out of forty-eight. Not straight, but he had slept close to a whole day. Quite different when your usual is to sleep that same amount in a full week.

Returning to his chamber, he stretched his long muscled limbs and back, rolling his neck in every direction, feet at shoulders' width, proceeding to also roll wrists, elbows, shoulders, legs at the groin and ankles, fingers forming fists then releasing, hips gyrating, followed by torso. Spreading his stance further, he leaned his whole body weight to the left, bending that same knee, stretching the opposite and sitting on his calf, repeating with the right one. Two sets of dips, two sets of sit ups, two sets of push ups.

To bring the adrenaline in.

Throwing on a tank and pajama pants, Kylo willfully trod to the kitchen, not quite hungry but decided to get nourishment, while drowning in water and hot tea. Compulsive fingers combed through his hair - felt greasy, digits obnoxiously tangling in the nest of knots under the surface caused by one too many turbulent nights, haunted by what was, what will be and what could be. So many of them symbolic, so little uncovered. Setting the kettle over heat, he peeled two carrots and wandered about his living room gnawing on them, stopping at the openings to the outside, evaluating the chill diffusing through the city, seeing people like little leaf beetles, clad in cozy clouded colors, meager troops roaming across sidewalks, roads, spilling from subway entries. The kettle screamed for attention, Kylo snapping out of abstraction and pouring the scorching water over the dandelion leaves and blossoms in his mug, swirling a glob of honey stuck to his spoon once the remnants of greenery were strained.

Carrying the fuming cup while still eroding the orange roots, he leaned against the solid wood door frame separating hallway from the small studio where he painted, one foot lazily crossed over the other, the air static. It had been more than a couple of months since he last did any progress on canvases, two started paintings covered in ratty, stained sheets on the floor. The strong arm lifted the infusion to his mouth, but he simply inhaled the steamy sweet scent. Genuinely out of vice, for he did not like the way it smelled. Scrunched nose and eyebrows as he set the mug onto the flat surface of an accent table and thought how he ought to start mixing lemongrass, or anything really, to make it less off-putting. He walked to the built-in closet packed with art supplies, a one hundred pound heavy bag, mitts and pads, a fifteen pound weighted vest and the paintings he did not want you to find - an undeveloped 16"x20" portrait and a complete full bodied 30"x40" of you, naked on his bed. Pulling them out, he set the paintings on the floor, propped against the wall and sat cross-legged in front of them. The artwork depicting your visage, hair flowing, eyes bright, had been started with a photo reference from three, four years ago, when the pair of you had been walking in a park early in the morning and then sat on a chipped peacock-blue bench to chew on a serving of warm churros Lino, a transplanted Luso-American from New Bedford, had quickly fried and generously sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. He had captured the exact moment a light breeze made itself noted, tendrils of hair swirling around your cheeks, eyebrows frowned. The latter composition was an authentic test to memory, creativity and geometry. He had obsessively spent a year in the hyper realistic piece, where your body was manipulated to be in an angle he had never seen it in yet, not from the perspective used. 

Kylo was consumed with getting the texture of your skin perfect. 

The direction of your eyelashes.

The ethereal glistening film on your fingers.

He wished he could touch you through the tightly spread cotton of the painting. Wished he could see you there, warm frame, worshipful frailty, wholehearted fearlessness. Wished he could have you whenever he wanted, whenever he needed.

And he needed you often.

And he needed you now.

Swallowing the last of his food, he leaned back on his palms, neck rolling and eyes closing, thinking about texting you, calling you, anything! If he could hear your voice, it would be perfect. Perhaps he should go to your place, deal with whatever it was you both had to deal face to face. Boosting from his rear and skittering into action, he picked up his mug and, emphatically gulping half of its content, let his lower limbs govern, taking him back to the bedroom and sitting on the mattress after grabbing his phone off the sleek-lined bedside table.

Kylo stared at it, not sure how to start.

Left thumb scrolled up, reviewing the latest texts between the two.

 _"Come over"_ , he sent.

He didn't know what else to say. Didn't know if he should apologize, if he should mention anything regarding the last time you saw each other - past nine weeks ago, when he dropped you home upon returning from that exceptional roadtrip in September. All at once, he was robbed of the desideratum of reflection.

_"Can I call?"_

Stumped for a quarter of a minute, the titan yield to your will and called you himself instead of adding one more step to that seesaw, regretting taking that action when you took a while to answer. He imagined your anxiety had risen, having misappropriated of your intent action. Suddenly he wasn't so confident anymore.

"Hello?"

The pressure on his lips alleviated and he mouthed it before saying it aloud, "hey."

A long reticence followed, utter absence of noise. It wasn't uncomfortable, it just hurt. He heard a deep whiff from your end of the line, priming words.

"How have you been?"

"Okay, busy with work." The man gave half lies. "You?"

"Same. Been writing a lot, found an ending for this book." He didn't doubt a single word, yet offered nothing but his acknowledging grunt. "You're still teaching in the same schedule?"

"Umm, partially. I signed up for a tournament in Japan earlier in the year and am all the way down to the half-finals. Looking forward to that trip."

Sounded cocky, but you knew his skills, knew how much he trained and practiced, no skepticism there. If he believed he would be the American to compete abroad, then indeed he would go on that tour.

"Congratulations. Will it be in February? Think I remember you telling me something like that months ago..."

"Yes, second weekend of February." Rising to his feet, Ren paced to the kitchen, finishing his tea and placing the mug in the sink. "Uh, can you come over?"

"No," You left him hanging, squirming in his mind, considering that he had, in fact, fucked everything up. He deserved it. Then you added, "however... if you want to come here, you can. I'm cooking dinner."

How nurturing.

"Need anything?"

"No, just get here. Take the train, there's no parking today."

"Alright, see you in forty-five."

"Bye."

As soon as he was sure you had hung up, he changed into warmer clothes, throwing the latest book he was reading into his backpack - Frank O'Hara's _Meditation in an Emergency_ , plucking his alienating headphones from the same nightstand and turning off all lights before venturing out to the biting cold.

Seven minutes later than the blurted out timetable, the treetop of a man was entering your loft very quietly, your eyes following all his steps as you tossed the vegetables in the wok, standing not even eight feet from your door, very soft blues played in the background, barely audible over the sibilating sound.

"Hey." He launched your way, a hint of embarrassment on his face, maybe shame.

"Hi." Your vision busied itself between the pan and his movements, keys with yours, bag dropped on the floor next to the Prussian blue couch, Dior Homme biker boots by the entry, huge cedar-colored parka peeled off, virtually no difference made to a monstrous-sized man's structure. You added pinch of salt and another one of garlic powder and continued stirring.

Releasing the pitch-black locks from his garnet beanie, Kylo folded it in the center and set it atop your console, giving a glance to the mirror and deciding to tie half of his hair back, walking towards you as he accomplished it. 

"Need help?"

"Sure, you can make the dressing, peanut sesame." You replied, dumping the cooked peppers, mushrooms and edamame to a large bowl and greasing up the skillet, taking a fistful of shirataki noodles and hearing them hiss in the heat.

Rolling up his sleeves, he took a spoonful of peanut butter and shoved it in his mouth, letting the smooth paste melt, chewing on the crunchy bits while searching for the red chili paste. Bending, you reached for a small vessel he could use, the man gathering and lining the required ingredients up on the counter to your right, eyeing up the measures of water, rice wine vinegar, soy sauce, sesame oil and honey, prior to including the peanut butter, the chili paste and...

"Where do you have the sesame seeds?"

Your head shot to the task on his hands, "I don't have any. Do you mind? You got the peanut chunks for texture..."

"I don't care." He shrugged, peering down at the thin tubes you warmed up.

Using a spoon, he combined the pastes and whisked the rest energetically, making it as fluid as he could, food and dressing coming together as you served two bountiful plates, him moving them to the dinner table, you behind, carrying two glasses and a jug filled with water. Once the table was set, you both took your spots, the melody coming from your laptop now more discernible, still soft enough not to bother, loud enough to create a relaxing environment. The hooded mix of browns lifted to your countenance, admiring it.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." A quick delicate simper offered.

Kylo inhaled deeply and slowly, his arm crossing the wooden surface, the large grip uncoiling, exposed, expectant, and you, befuddled, borderline incredulous with the action, boring down at the lengthy, capable digits and the vast palm and its latent potential, lurking fortune. 

Five seconds with the semblance of two lifetimes. Too long to be apart.

You slid your much smaller hand from the side of your plate to top his, a glint of marvel dilating his sight, as if he didn't predict your response. His fingers folded on yours, sealing, fusing you together. Purely, you looked at one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me practically giving recipes in chapters.
> 
> Dem visuals:  
> Ren's boots: [here](http://tinyurl.com/jqasdqd)  
> ...should probably search for the other visuals, and might later, but I just cooked lunch and it's getting cold. :P
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	24. Veneration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: abuse of Italics.  
> TW: overload of anatomic terms.
> 
> Ha.

You entered Kylo's building, nodding to the porter as he spoke with a middle-aged couple, scribbled your signature on his sheet and waited for the elevator to part its opening, allowing you entry into its belly, dragging you to the heavens. Once past the solid single shaker paneled walnut door, you stripped out of your jacket and took off your boots. Then you listened - the homeowner's washer working and the faint, harmonious rainfall of his shower. For a moment you debated sitting on the couch or meeting him in the bathroom, deciding for the latter, adding thumps to your purposeful steps, lest he be startled. Pushing the already open aperture with the base of your digits, your eyes set on the enormous exposed male behind the tempered glass. He remained abstracted from your presence only a couple of minutes more, having turned slightly and catching the glimpse of your mass in the mirror, head shifting towards the entrance, while his fists lowered from soaping his shoulder blades.

"Come here."

"I showered already."

"You think it's wise of you to tell me 'no'?"

A cold shiver descended your back, suddenly all braveness evading you as his chin dipped, glaring. Watching you, he took how tiny you looked, the architecture of sturdy muscles shuddering to the thought of punishing you. He seemed... larger. Was he getting bigger...?

Unwavering, he waited. Expeditious hands worked to shed woolen and fleecy layers after layers of fabric, the marginally slanted halcyon orbs pinpointing you through the fine mist fogging the room as the warm spray poured and trickled down his physique. Abandoning the dark pile of fibers at your feet, you insinuated through the soda-lime-silica and marble cage, the giant taking two meager steps backwards, providing enough space for you under the temperate heavy drops.

He didn't move, perusing the dampness of your hair, relaxing in its form. With a slight lean of his head, Kylo observed your face, your body, how the colorless trails drawn by the water glimmered, your eyebrows furrowed, eyelids blinking droplets off your eyelashes, like his. Your arm fluctuated forward, faltering and freezing mid action. He teetered from one leg to the other, before closing the short distance between the two of you, obliging your hand to rest against his stomach, calmly outlining each _rectus abdominis_ and tracking upwards, following the velvety path amidst his pectorals. Always so much to take in - statuesque muscles, silky skin, gorgeous beauty marks, glorious scars, splendid tattoos.

He was stunning.

And you could not understand why he allowed you to be so close.

You brought your other hand up, both feeling the expanse of his pronounced collar bone, caressing and rubbing down his deltoids, triceps, biceps, the dragon, waves, the peonies and hibiscus of his _gobu_ and the phoenix, tiger, the lotus throughout, with the snake of his _nagasode_ , pausing at his elbows, your thumbs firmly pressing on their inside, a deep intake of oxygen expanding the burly flesh of his chest, while his own paws held on to the back of your arms, your feet fitting between his as your frames got in contact. Eyes almost shut, the titan gazed down at you, arm encircling your waist, thick fingers combing through your soaked locks. Soft lips laid on his sternum, the pulsating blaze thrumming across them, one languished kiss branded on it.

Floating from his grasp, you reached for the fragrant wash, squeezing some of the cool, buttery, coconut-hued gel onto your open palm.

"May I?"

He said nothing, slowly turning his back to you, frothy extremities lathering over his _trapezius_ and lowering along his torso, watching his built move and roll under the pads of your digits. He was, indeed, bulking up even more. And a tremor rattled your bones to the thought of him subduing you, marring you. Yet you entrusted him with yourself, depended on your Master. Pushing the heel of your palm, you exhorted all tension out of his body, from top of shoulders to thighs, repeating the gesture until he shifted to face you, capturing your wrists in his grip and setting them atop his chest. He didn't release them immediately, sensing your blood running and throbbing on his thumbs, while you felt the same against the fortune of your hands. Gliding his fists across your forearms, he authorized you to proceed.

You worshiped his anatomy with your fingers, worshiped his spirit with yours.

Kylo squeezed the water off your mane and blotted an incredibly soft, eggplant-colored bamboo towel on your skin, patiently crouching to leave you thoroughly dry, then briskly using the same cloth to wipe what hadn't aired out already. Picking up your clothes, you followed the Herculean man to the bedroom, quietly folding your outfit and letting it rest on one of the coal-tinted, linen club chairs by the wall perpendicular to the door leading to the washroom. He sat at the bottom edge of the mattress, elbows over knees, observing you.

You marched to him, magnetized, unweaving the tangles in his wet curls once you arrived at your spot between his firm thighs, his chin planted on your womb, tranquil puddles of deliquesced _scoria_ overran by _Caloplaca marina_ , like the minerals brought to the shore by the sea, ugly denominations for beautiful things, on you. Behind your legs, the tips of his fingers had started to lightly run up and down on them, short forehead leaning opposite you, long nose nuzzling. Soon after, he fondled your buttcheeks, clutching them, swiping his digits along your crevices, when he scanned your features once more.

"I'm going to hurt you..."

You tilted forward, cupping his temples and kissing the center of his forehead, before he stood up and led you to the unoccupied accent chair, holding your small hand in his massive one while helping you kneel on the seat. Upper limbs propped atop the recliner, you doubled down, rear brought up. Ren's fingertips ghosted on your spine, groping the roundness of your flesh.

"Please, count out loud." His own voice barely above a whisper, raspy, low.

"Yes, Master Ren."

You blinked and his hand left you, his enormous frame a mere shadow in your peripheral, lurking behind.

Anticipation.

Quivering, your eyes closed seeking calm, the grip on the back of the chair becoming looser.

He hit you. Open paw, smacked the meatiest part of your curve, to your left.

You counted. Always adding his respectful and earned title.

Then the second slap.

The third, harder.

The fourth impact had your skin tingling.

By the fifth, it was on fire, his palm now resting on it after each blow.

From the sixth to the tenth, the force increased and the intervals were shorter.

Your enamored, punishing Hades, resembling Tartarus, both deity and place, pressed his voluptuous lips to your burning scarlet _epidermis_ prior to switching sides and spanking you with ten more blows, equally increased strength applied to them. Your _cutis_ was turning a shade of berry, bruised. In the end, another kiss, this time on the right cheek, prizes for your quietness, your consideration and your resilience.

"Come." His arms stretched outwards to you, his own palms hot, red.

Embracing you, Kylo installed himself on the seating you were previously on with you straddling his lap. A whine came forth from the back of your throat when your butt touched his thighs, healing strokes and doting nudges following.

"Look at me." You obeyed, glassy orbs on his. "You can cry."

He snuggled you, laying pecks all over your face, unhindered tears spewing, no whimpers accompanying them. Rugged members held you tightly, thumbs grazing your ribs, your nails delicately scratching the stiff, short hairs on his jaw.

Time was suspended, moisture evaporating from your tresses, breaths synchronizing. Elevating your body, you indulged the erection reposing in the nest of your figures, consenting for it to infiltrate your searing, sopping soul through the flesh. You stopped breathing, tired soul windows closing. Then an airy sigh, forearms braced upon Gargantua's vast chest, who inspected you, those awe-inspiring eyes alone causing your skin to tighten, more shivers, more pleasure. Steered by him, your hips began vacillating, walls clamping around his shaft whenever the top of your slit connected with his pubis, driving you to push forward and downward onto him, harder, delighting in the snag of your hood, Kylo steadying himself against the seat and letting you ride him. Spreading your arms apart over his thorax so he could see your cunt, the man watched you lean back, taking hold of his knees and move up and down along his dick, impaled, thrilling sight.

But he pulled you to him, close.

"Use me." His black locks mixing with yours, sweltering exhale on your right ear.

Your vision scoured his traits, flanks tensing back into movement.

"Will you help me?"

He shook his head.

"I wanna watch you."

The simple wish would be conceded as you cupped your breasts and teased them, increasing the beat at which your hips snaked. Having him inside of you, even if stationarily stowed, filling you to the brim, worked wonders. The submissive giant tensed his _gluteus_ , _biceps femoris_ and _adductors_ , eager for action. Boosting the pressure in your abdomen, you rode him at a hasty pace, crushing the fullness of your tits in one hand, the other securing you onto him, your face twisted in a lascivious demeanor, convulsing as your orgasm hit, the sounds disgorged from you erupting into the air, filling his ears and feeding his eagerness.

You twitched twice as you recovered, delicate touches given to your neck and shoulders. Your head rose to meet him.

"My turn." The gentle smile nothing but a hoax.

He hoisted you in his powerful arms like you were a piece of paper, falling in bed on top of you and tucking your legs outwards, knees joined at his front. And he pounded into you, piercing your insides, incarnating a mad man hunting his release, faltered gasps in a musical track of feverish agony, a fervor within he wished to infect you with, he had infected you with, from that very first day, four years ago.

He had missed you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stick with me and you'll learn anatomy, Latin and Japanese. :P
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	25. Chagrin

The mid December chill was cutting through the exposed skin of your face, beanie buried down to your eyes, thick knitted wool wrapped around your neck, preventing the icy blast from further chapping your lips, teeth compulsively already nipping on them. Your gloved hands were sheathed in the deep, warm pockets of the somber oversized collared mid-thigh cloak, your boots landing steady as you strode along the cold concrete of the sidewalk on your way to Union Square Park. You couldn't care less about the holidays, but you appreciated the fairs and markets that sprung all over the city.

Approaching the frantic crowd crossing from and towards every direction, ascending from the subway stations like a surfeit of loathsome myriapods and hexapods and chelicerates overflowing from cadaveric cavities, your left paw encased the phone stored in your insulated down coat and pulling your thumbs off their casings you typed a quick text.

_"I'm here."_

Instinctively sagging your frown to your screen, you transversed Union Square West in direction to the park, the sun shining apprehensively through that Winter Wednesday, a reply vibrating in your palm.

_"Meet me at the statue."_

Locking your phone and pocketing it, you made your way through tourists and locals in a sped-up pace, still taking double the time it would normally take due to the pedestrian traffic. Surveying the area, you hurriedly began to put letters in front of letters, feeling the air surrounding you condense, an intangible weight over your shoulders, when a hot breath and a bass voice by your ear triggered intense shivers down your torso, simultaneously startling and whetting your every faculty.

"Hey."

The shriek that involuntarily spilled out your lips caused the nearest passersby to look your way, one hand immediately traveling to your mouth as you silently apologized in shame to whoever remained staring, a feeble punch hitting the front panel of his duffel coat, chest barely sensing any impact, as you glared up at the massive male.

"I'm sorry. Here." That humored smirk - in his huge hands, two lidded dark green cups were offered to you, hoping you would take one.

After a single second of hesitation, you chose the one to your right and smelled its contents through the narrow slit, the sweetened scent of hot chocolate spreading to comfort your senses.

"You're forgiven."

Neither of you said much during your outing. You both sauntered through the multitude of people visiting the market at lunch time, finding yourself collected, enjoying the random and trivial nature of the program he had invited you to. The festival was packed with booths of various types - food, home goods, toys, art, accessories, clothing, you name it. Stopping by a stand that sold terrariums in the form of jewelry, your sight focused on a clear resin ring with vibrant moss inside. Simple and pretty. At your back, Kylo was scrutinizing items exposed on an El-shaped surface from an eccentric booth targeting the scientific and literary communities, finding the perfect gag gift for you. He joined you after, resuming the stroll and pausing once again at another accessory stall, this one a luxury jewelry brand, his eyes scanning around before setting on a glass case. You looked at him, trailing the invisible path to what had attracted his attention.

"Do you like those?" A thick, thermally gloved index raising and indicating three gold-plated black onyx _pavè_ stacking rings and a thin cuff in the same design and materials.

"Yeah, they're clean and elegant."

He smirked, half-glancing down at you.

"Excuse me," the mountainous guy expected the vendor to pay heed to him, "how much is the asking price?"

Your breath slowly and imperceptibly caught as you inhaled, numbly observing him and barely registering when the graceful blonde double checked which pieces he referred to and informed of their cost. You griped his left sleeve, muttering his name. He apologized to the woman and turned to you.

"What are you doing? Ren?"

The most serene look painted his countenance, vision raking your features, brows knitting for a fraction before he parted his flushed lips.

"You don't want them?"

"Ren, the rings alone are three hundred and seventy-five dollars."

"And the bracelet, four hundred and forty."

"Right. So, are you hearing me? And yourself? What am I going to do with almost a grand worth of jewelry? Where am I going to wear a thousand bucks dangling from me? I don't go... pl-places!"

"Yeah, you do."

"Not those kind of places!"

"Yeah, you do. In a couple of weeks you're going to that event with me."

"Okay, but I don't need four hundred dollars on my wrist. Are you embarrassed in any way?"

"Not at all."

"Then please don't get me anything."

"You really don't know how to accept gifts..."

"Not those kind of gifts. Makes me feel... I don't know."

Kylo eyed you.

"You know that is not my intention."

You decided to walk away from the booth, sipping on your balmy potion, doleful giant tracking behind, halting when you did so, appraising a stand where several ornate hair combs laid. You chatted with the two ladies about the materials they were made out of, hearing about the imported ones and the ones they made at their shop, questioning about prices at the end. They wrapped a couple of them, in patina and in bakelite, like precious treasures. You paid for them.

An extra hour was spent roaming about the park, dodging rushing folks and arresting the pace when certain particularly compelling objects were sighted. Meanwhile dark clouds gathered above, your phones displaying a quarter to five, you crossed the street and sat inside a small restaurant where you both ordered small soups to help restore the feeling of blood flow in your limbs and salads with enough kale, beets, chickpeas and avocado to feed at least two more people. A light drizzle blessed every New Yorker who suddenly switched from their regular scurrying tempo to full-on jogging, drops thickening as time passed, the afternoon turning into dusk.

You took the train back home, thirty-four minutes of sardine-packed composition ride, Kylo's shoulders slumped, protecting from the frosty sting of aqueous needles, both his wide strides and the precipitation instigating the celerity of your own steps, fingers curling around key chain to open the front door as quickly as possible.

The heartbeat in your chest fluttered throughout your whole physique, puffs of hot air contrasting with the gelid feel of skin, groans of distaste as the both of you climbed the stairs to the third story you occupied. You opened the door and the giant promptly turned the heating on, dropping his boots by yours at the entrance, outerwear coming off next, being placed on the couch. You thought how you should probably acquire a coat rack. Perhaps wall hooks, wouldn't take that much space. But where to put them? You looked around.

He watched you, entertained by your thought-absorbed gestures, the multitude of modulating miens broadcasted, his penetrating hazel eyes - candid earnestness within the autumnal bayou comprised in the crystal portholes always betraying the phlegmatic physiognomy portrayed. And you felt them, on you. And you stopped, allowed your mind to allay. Ren shuffled, nearing you, large hand gingerly ridding you of the acrylic beanie still on your head, smoothing over the hair with his free paw and tenderly tugging on your mane. Your own fingers stretched outwards to his watch cap, shoulders hunching to facilitate your task, settling on his knees ahead of you, gripping your waist while cool digits untangled the knots in the ebony tendrils. He closed his eyes, sighing.

A minute after, he rose, heading for the bathroom, while you stood by the bed peeling off your garments, storing what could be stored and throwing socks and the t-shirt you wore underneath into the hamper, composing yourself with the lounging, derelict attire you always wore at home. Kylo exited the restroom and went through your drawers, looking for any of the clothes he habitually reserved for necessity. Analogously to the prolonged spans of time you spent without seeing him, there were occasions when he stayed at your place, for a night or five. As hard as the pursuit of black clothes amongst a horde of black clothes was, the colossal dude managed to detect shorts that were larger than the rest and a thin, heavy knit, long tank he threw on after shedding his clothing, slinging his own socks to join the rest in the laundry basket.

Waiting for your laptop to spur back to life, you filled a large glass of water and sipped on it, walking to the spacious sofa where Ren had splayed himself, remote in hand, channel surfing, free extremity lifting towards you, soundlessly asking for a drink. You surrendered your cup to him.

"Wanna watch something?"

"Yeaaah, but I have a couple of messages to reply to first."

"Have anything in mind?" He took a swig, eyebrows arched up, creasing his forehead.

"Kinda wanted to watch _It Happened One Night_ again? You can choose the second one." 

Perambulating to your usual working spot at the kitchen table, you plopped into the chair facing the computer with your left leg folded under yourself, inputting your password. Once the WiFi connection realized it was supposed to function, you opened your browser and your emails, cursory answers drawn and sent, newsletters blindly deleted, others saved for whenever you felt like checking them - would probably take you days to reconsider those. Ren had gotten up and scanned your movie library, taking the film you mentioned and fingering through the other classics, selecting one and inserting the first DVD in the player, returning to his seat, gulping the remaining of his water. Sitting on the far end of the couch, you fluffed the lipstick-to-brown gradient pillow with gold quatrefoil pattern at your back, glancing to the copy of _An American in Paris_ which would be playing in about two hours and directing his lower left limb to your lap. He flinched at the tickling susceptibility, melting into you after.

"Have you been to Paris?" Hard tips of digits from one hand sunk around his Achilles tendon, while the other nurtured the ligaments and muscles, soon his right foot lifting from the distressed Persian medallion area rug to join the massage.

"I have. You?"

"Mhm."

Those would be stories for bedtime. Or some other day. He squeezed the 'play' button.

Throughout the adventures of Ellie and Peter meeting on a bus, pretending to be a married couple in a motel while disdaining one another, sleeping on hay outside a barn and falling in love on their way to her wedding, you floated closer to Polyphemus, kneading up his calves, the extensive agglomeration of skulls in his dermis moving, his hooded lids half-closed in enjoyment. A happy ending. Then quietly:

"I am not ashamed of you, nor do I want to embellish you when showing face to others."

Your eyes widened, head turning in his direction. He was actually revisiting that conversation. You didn't even know how to continue. So you stared at him, rich caramel-mocha beacons fixed on the refurbished coffee table you got for fifty bucks in a sale three blocks down almost a year ago, zoned out in thought. Did he even realize he had spoken out loud? You could sense the pressure of your furrowed forehead but couldn't release. Finally he looked at you.

"I was just trying to give you a present."

Lips parted slowly before you pressed onwards.

"But I can't accept presents like that..."

"It's not just 'presents like that'. It's any present. Any thing. Why can't you accept anything?"

"I don't know, it's wrong. I... can't have things given to me like that!"

"Why not?"

"I-I-"

"We're fucking already, so it's not like you'd feel some sort of obligation to fuck me."

"It's... guilt. Don't you feel awkward when someone gives you something? Or does something for you?"

"People don't do nice things for me." The sentence was bitter in its simplicity and concision. "Except you. But you're not 'people', you're not them."

"I don't do nice things for you either."

"Yes, you do!" Kylo shimmied forward on the couch towards you, right foot returning to the ground, his left leg folded under his weight. "You cook for me, you talk to me, you le-"

"This is about cooking? And talking? Really? Those are the 'nice things' I do for you?! Ren, you cook for me too and you talk to me too. According to that criteria, shouldn't we be even then?"

"You fucking understand me!" He yelled in your face.

"So do you!"

With voices raised, you were both shaking, one side of your faces illuminated by the cool light emanating from your TV, the other warmer, dimmer, from the recessed wall lighting by the kitchen's sink. You could see his glistening eyes inspecting your features, your own mirroring, but he broke away, masseter protracting and protruding, head tilting down.

"I saw the jewelry... and I just thought it would look nice on you. That was all."

"It was a lot of money, Ren."

He chuckled.

"So you're telling me that if I got here tomorrow with plastic, kid-toy accessories and gave them to you, you would accept them without fighting me?"

Staring at the ceiling, unfortunately you had to think about it.

"Well... I'd still be feeling guilty because then you would've wasted money on plastic shit."

"Unbelievable. So I can't waste money on plastic and I can't waste money on gold. What can I waste money on?"

"It's your money..."

"Is it? Because you seem to feel more guilty and have more opinions than me about my own finances!"

"I can't accept things."

"Why not?" his voice amplified again.

"Because I 'can't have nice things', as they say!"

"Why not?" His voice lowered to below regular tone, enveloping your mind in a hug. "Look at me. Why not?"

Your vision landed on his chest, his hands on your thighs, grounding you, your air ways becoming constricted by the threatening tears.

"Because nice things get broken. Nice things don't last. Nice things become bad things. I'm not worthy of good things."

On your mouth was displayed a smile, albeit a sad one. Kylo had pushed on it, but he knew.

"Let me," his fingers played with your hair, "don't fight me."

How ludicrous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking hell, how I hate the holidays...  
> How do you feel about getting/the idea of getting expensive gifts?  
> Visuals:  
> Jewelry - [resin moss ring](http://tinyurl.com/glqufp2); [stacked rings](http://tinyurl.com/j79p8fk); [bracelet](http://tinyurl.com/gsx5kw2)  
> Hair combs - [patina](http://tinyurl.com/zcwseal); [bakelite](http://tinyurl.com/zptlz2m)  
> Ren's clothes - [shorts](http://tinyurl.com/jcglma3); [tank (black)](http://tinyurl.com/zb6bcfu)  
> Pillow - [here](http://tinyurl.com/hzmd4sy)  
> Persian rug - [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpuamhc)  
> Coffee table - [here](http://tinyurl.com/zc9ccrd)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	26. Conducting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much Japanese, you'll hate me.  
> Or you can educate yourself at the end notes.

Determined, steady hands closed around the hilt of a lengthened, _ōdachi_ -sized _bokken_ , tip of the wooden blade immovable at eye-level. His voice was calm and clear, switching stances to show the room filled with ten-year-olds how to properly hold the _tsuka_ \- wrists not too flat, no thumbs against the handguard, no floating pinky fingers exposing the palm. Then the sword lift above the head, controlled with a solid grip, both paws parallel, never letting the blade droop. The blow should always be fluid, yet strong and stopping plane to one's sight at all times. Shoulders pushed back, armpits closed. Posture was important. He demonstrated and practiced three different _kiri-kaeshi_ , making sure he rectified the children's moves and positions, tolerantly illustrating the _katas_ as many times as necessary for all twelve kids to strike as perfectly and as instinctively as possible. They were young and he was proud. When three quarters of an hour passed, some parents began arriving to watch the end of the class, standing or sitting in the back of the room. 

" _Ki o tsuke! Chakuza._ " 

The students sat on the floor, Ren twinning in _seiza_ , everybody wearing their swords and sliding their left foot behind, kneeling and moving their right foot back as well, toes pointing inwards, sitting atop their lower extremities, _tsuba_ laid in line with the Western knee, palms flat over their thighs. 

" _Shōmen ni Rei!_ " In place, everyone turned to the main entrance of the building and bowed to it, fists gliding down their place of rest to form a triangle ahead of the knees, heads lowering, shifting to their original orientation afterwards. " _Sensei ni Rei!_ " The _kenshi_ bowed to him and he bowed to them.

" _Sensei, doumo arigatou gozaimashita!_ " A choir of young tones transpired thankfulness.

Grabbing their training weapons, students and teacher alike rose on their right leg. Class was dismissed. The children parted in groups, some running to their guardians, others to their master, questions and requests and comments. Thirty minutes to the giant's next session and progenitors wanted to chat and shake hands. Passively, he hated that.

After fathers and mothers exited, he walked to the front of the space and laid on the cold floor by the wall, where he stretched and let a peeved, exasperated groan erupt from his throat, fists sinking into his eye sockets. He felt pressure inside his skull, throbbing temples and pounding sharp pain on the parietal region. Before long, the drowned footsteps of the first teen students reporting to train reached his ears, spine abandoning the ground, two boys and a girl approaching and taking spots in front of him. They made casual conversation, Kylo hearing about their school day, more kids coming. At seven thirty sharp, class begun. 

During the last half-hour, the _sensei_ taught his _kōhai_ how to tie _sageo_ around the scabbard, offering them a multitude of silk, leather and cotton cords in diverse colors to choose from, matching each _tsuka-ito_ , quickly showing them five possible ways of wrapping it. The lighthearted atmosphere helped everyone unwind till nine o'clock that evening, the adolescents being given permission to speak freely, sober laughter and collected exchanges between the group of seventeen heads. He just listened, observing them.

Reciprocating goodbyes, the colossal man stood behind, locking equipment away, and lumbered towards the locker room, disrobing and folding both his sable _hakamashita_ and _umanoribakama_ , carefully storing them deep in his duffel bag, enjoying a quick shower before returning home, walking the mere twenty-three minutes from that  _dōjō_ location to his apartment. Would be too noisy on the bus anyway and he wasn't in a hurry.

*

Your phone vibrated, scaring you off of your creative trance. 

_"What are you doing?"_

You scratched your eye with your right index's knuckle and checked the time.

_"Was working, thanks a lot. What's up?"_

_"Sorry. Not much kinda bored"_

_"You're never bored. Aren't you at home with your Magic the Gathering buddies or something?"_ You chuckled as you tapped to send it.

_"Like we never played Shadowrun together get outta here and no im watching this very bad show"_

While you were reading the text, an image came through - a couple of actors and a very bright background played on a TV above and surrounded by a vast DVD library, dimmed lights and his legs crossed at the ankles atop a small coffee table.

_"Those hairstyles look like a soap opera from the 80s, don't lie, you're having the time of your life!"_

_"You got me this is the best thing ever in the history of national television! Want to come over?"_

_You glanced at the document open ahead of you and saved the newest version before you forgot._

_"U-G-H! I don't want to move. If you want company, get in your car and get your ass here."_

_"But its cold outside and im so comfortable here dont do this to me"_

_"Look at my face_ \---> -_- _Does it seem like I care? YOU distracted me, YOU have the trouble."_

_"FINE punkass. Will i eat your food or are you lacking something?"_

_"Only lacking you, asshat."_

_"Be there within the hour"_

_"Roger roger."_

Fifty-seven minutes passed and, having lent your shoulder on the cold, rough brick wall, from your window you saw Matt driving by really slowly, looking for parking and occupying a spot three buildings away, the constant rainfall hitting the clear glass and creating a satisfying, uniform vibration spreading throughout the studio. You watched his blonde mop of hair disappearing under the protection of his coat's hood and the messenger bag he always carried everywhere hanging from his torso. Walking to the intercom, you waited for it to buzz and granted him entry, opening the front door to your apartment and turning on the lights. Echoing in the hall, you heard his hefty, hasty pace, probably running up the three levels boosting two stair steps at a time. 

You smiled.

Soon he was standing at your doorway, panting and bending over, palms on knees.

"Took you long enough!" Poker face with a side of hands on hips, you thumped the tip of your foot on the wooden floor.

"Wha-... Ho-... Shut up... God... So out of sha-... shape..."

"Why the hell did you run up three floors? Wasn't a matter of life and death!" Fitting your head through the space between his arm and rib cage, you assisted the gigantic man into your dwelling. Or so you tried.

"You never know! Maybe... it was."

With the aid of your heel, you kicked the door shut and he made himself heavier on you.

"Oh. Think I'm gonna pass out. This is it."

"No... I can't... hold you up..."

"You gotta."

"Says who?"

"Ow. Mean."

He kept tumbling over you and you resorted to the secret weapon of Matt destruction: tickles. Two pointers attacked his stomach and sides, while he laughed and howled, trying to escape you but finding himself cornered by the blue couch, his only way out being to catch you and ensnaring your arms parallel to your body, which he easily accomplished, being a monster-sized human compared to you. Then it backfired on you, one of his lengthy arms moving just enough to tickle your flank instead. A duet of distinct laughters filled your otherwise quiet shelter till you couldn't breathe, coughing your recovery to standard heartbeat, four eyes in tears from inflicted euphoria. You remained trapped against him, his chin dipped down, contemplating you through driblets of wintry water on his spectacles, that wonderful, goofy, broad smile of his flourishing across his rosy face causing everything to grin along with it - his heavy-lidded eyes, his cheeks, you.

"Hai."

One of your vertebrae cracked as you looked upwards at him.

"Hey."

Matt's delighted expression melted, shoulders arching forward as he leaned over you, the full, cantaloupe-colored lips touching your left cheek, by your jaw, the strong branching limbs already surrounding you releasing some of the crushing pressure, his big paws tenderly supporting your form in a hug.

"How are you?"

"I'm okay... You?"

"I'm... I'm better now. Was really bored... and stuff."

"Tragic," you kissed his stubbly cheek and pulled away, pointing at the small empty space next to your entry's accent table, "shoes."

Matt dropped his bag on the sofa and took off his Lakai, pebble-hued, woolly sneakers by the entryway, tucking his signature green parka inside out and laying it across the bottom of one of your mismatched dining chairs, you following his action and unfolding it, dressing the back of said seat. He glanced between you and the coat, left eyebrow furrowing, to which you simply replied 'moisture', a curbed hum of acknowledgement from his throat as he raised his sweater and wiped his glasses on his beige cotton t-shirt. 

"So, whatchu wanna do?" Leaning your bottom against the counter, stretched arms propped you from behind.

"I brought," he walked to the front of your couch, where he had placed his satchel, fumbled with it and yanked a box from its confinement, rotating his pulse till it was displayed right side up, " _Betrayal At House On The Hill_!"

Blinking, you pressed your lips together, giving him some time to evaluate the situation for himself. He, however, just continued looking at you, board game in hand, excitement portrayed on his appearance.

"Are we going to double up our personalities and pretend there's four people playing? We need at least three for that game to work."

"Okay, what about _Trouble_? I have it in the car, the twins wanna play it..."

"That's a bit... mindless..."

"Chess?"

"Did you come here to pass on your boredom to me? Besides, I don't have a chess set... anymore, maybe, I don't know where it is. No. I haaave... _Guess Who?_ up here... whatever else I might have is down in the storage."

"Okay!" The tall man walked back to your kitchen, playfully smacking you on the upper arm on his way to the fridge. "Well, go get it!"

You groaned, dragging yourself to the shelves where you stored the physical copies of movies, TV shows and videogames, the long untouched, boxed table top game collecting a thin layer of dust by them. Matt studied the insides of the refrigerator, finding a saran-wrapped ceramic bowl with homemade vegan spinach and artichoke dip.

"Can I eat this?" He waved the container in the air, still hunched, checking the rest of the food there.

"I was thinking about saving it for the children."

"What children?" His back straightened as he turned his inquisitive head in your general direction, whom reverted to the table, game in hand.

"Precisely. Just eat it. Nuke it though, tastes so much better when it's all warm and creamy." Your eyes rolled in delectable pleasure. "Bring the corn chips from the pantry, pleeeassse."

He did as instructed, returning with a packet of gluten-free yellow corn chips and dumping it in a big dish, then wearing your oven mitts while staring at the bowl on the rotating glass plate, feet set apart further than shoulder width, rocking from side to side, waiting. Taking two cups, you filled them with water and poured two mugs of black tea, setting them on the chosen surface. Upon the anticipated ding, Matt carried the dipping amazeness to the table, removed the gloves and excused himself to use the restroom, plastic trays of rubbery, cartoony faces ready to entertain the pair of you. 

An hour and about nineteen rounds played, conversation was captivating, sometimes giddier, sometimes darker, the very tall man reclining in the chair that looked infinitesimal under him, sweater thrown across the sofa, too fevered from laughing gleefully and the home heating system. Your phone vibrated against the solid surface of the dining furniture and, inputting the unlocking code, you opened the new text.

_"Can come?"_

The reply was typed. 

Elongated, sturdy arms elevated above himself, right paw closing around the left wrist atop his head, the citrus oil braided with dry wood notes of his deodorant fragrance overtaking your olfaction, substantial thighs disunited, those slightly slanted hazel eyes imbuing a vehemence you hadn't discerned previously. Till then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visuals:  
> Ren's uniform: [hakamashita (minus the "obi", which is the sash)](http://tinyurl.com/he9fbra); [umanoribakama](http://tinyurl.com/zb2xjto)  
> Matt's clothes: [parka](http://tinyurl.com/zlrtqwe); [bag](http://tinyurl.com/htx8gxy); [sneakers](http://tinyurl.com/jgp7flx)  
> Vegan spinach and artichoke dip: [recipe](http://tinyurl.com/h9dssqe)  
> Matt's deodorant: [here](http://tinyurl.com/zllnzr7)
> 
> Translation of non-English terms (maybe I should've done this with previous chapters):  
> "ōdachi" - large/great sword  
> "bokken" - wooden sword  
> "tsuka" - hilt/handle of sword  
> "kiri-kaeshi" - type of kendō exercise, "to cut repeatedly"  
> "katas" - forms, exercises  
> "ki o tsuke" - "attention", call for attention  
> "chakuza" - "to sit on the floor"  
> "seiza" - formal/ideal sitting position, "to sit correctly"  
> "tsuba" - hand guard of sword  
> "Shōmen ni Rei" - "bow to front" (front of temple)  
> "Sensei ni Rei" - "bow to teacher"  
> "kenshi" - swordman, student  
> "Sensei, doumo arigatou gozaimashita" - "Thank you very much, teacher"  
> "sensei" - teacher  
> "kōhai" - protégé, junior  
> "sageo" - a type of cord  
> "tsuka-ito" - the wrap of/on the hilt of a sword  
> "hakamashita" - a short kimono (usually above knees)  
> "umanoribakama" - traditional wide Japanese pants  
> "dōjō" - "place of the way", a practice room
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	27. Amelioration

Sun was high up and a humongous man pressed on your stomach, in between your legs, under the sheets. His head laid on your chest, arms by your torso, framing you. You hand't moved in the last hour and you felt his strong, steady heartbeat precisely atop your bladder, which, being morning, wasn't doing great things for your will to urinate. But he was so warm. And the night had been restless. He had fallen back to sleep too, a warm, then cold, wet feeling flowing from him to between your breasts - drool. Very slowly, you brought your right hand up and gently curled an ebony lock around your index, letting it slowly uncoil from it. The titan stirred, sniffling, a quiet hum from the hindmost part of his throat consumed by the foggy silence surrounding you. A massive paw abandoned its place of rest to scratch behind his neck, finding a spot by his face, fully cupping your left breast and beginning to knead. Controllingly. Sluggishly. Your soft skin erupting in tiny bumps as you shivered, the coolness spreading from the center of your chest outwards, like spiders running beneath your cutis. Kylo moved his head at last, holding it above you. He admired the boob he massaged with too much focus, getting on his elbows, enabling his free hand to provide the same attention to the other one. His hair brushed and dragged against you, emphasizing the tightening of your nerves. Swallowing the saliva that collected in his mouth, he soon parted his pouty lips and connected them with your breast, the slick tongue cradling your nipple as he sucked, slumbersome, eyelashes fluttering for a second until he closed his eyes.

He was serene.

Kylo sucked for a long while and always tenderly, worshiping.

Switching breasts, he merely carried on and with it lengthy digits caressing your collar and cheeks, lovingly tranquilizing you, emulating a soporific- the solid weight on top of you, the languid mouth, the hypnotizing fingers. And he did so for another long stretch of time.

You came to your senses when he repeatedly pushed your tits together, hard, licking both nipples at some point, spit dripping from his mouth to your rib cage, eyes shooting to yours once he felt your breath quicken - the scene had instantly changed. Like a reptilian predator, he slithered up your body, considerably increasing the weight propped on you, shoulders arched, furious passion, forehead gluing to yours, look so intense it could break you - it did break you, it always did, break you and repair you, always giving you something, everything. And what did you possess to give him in return? Nothing but yourself, so you did. And did it even matter? In that flash of thought, a tear gathered by the tail of your eye and there it held, suspended in a moment, the dark scruffy curtains of hair shrouding both your faces.

Too many heartbeats spent in that pose.

The calm before the storm.

Then all at once, his hands grabbing your legs in tandem and bringing them upwards, folding you in half over yourself, joints not quite ready for it, muscles straining as he steadied your calves and ankles against his shoulders, pressing fully on you. Three fingers guided his erection, gliding its glans along your entrance and lips, getting it coated in the accumulated juices resulted from the dally stimulation he had provided. Looking down his aquiline nose into your eyes, he pushed into the warmth of you in one swift movement as you bit on nothing, a hindered blink of pain and excitement, needing the use he was about to give you.

At first he remained still, overfilling your cunt, feeling you breathe, shake and clench while you adjusted to the burning, stinging stretch he kindly provided, balls deep. You had never thought about how you could accommodate him inside of you. The human body, amazing and horrifying, finding peace and pleasure in pain.

It felt... like he pushed, shifted your organs from their predetermined place, a carnal sensation in the true meaning of the word: from the Latin _carno_ , flesh, meat. It was pure and primal, visceral. 

Mighty muscles protruded from chest, neck, ornated arms.

Kylo spread your stretched out lower limbs, tipping some of his mass backwards onto his knees, reinforcing his posture.

"Hold your legs. Do not move."

Wrists bent, small hands wrapped around knees and calves, you, laid on your back, spread-eagle with his dick hitherto ensconced in you. His own paws planted open on your hamstrings, withdrawing from your heat, hazel obs scanning his skin shining with your wetness. Pressing forward, the hulking man rammed into you, your much smaller frame feeling more strained, more open by the unfaltering, continuous rhythm set by him, a condescending expression of mimicry tainting his semblance every time you moaned.

"Hmm... Ahh..."

"'Ahh' what? 'Ahh' what, bitch?"

"Ah-ahh, S-sir!"

"That's better."

Wanting to watch, your head perked up, getting but a fleeting glimpse before one of Kylo's monstrous hands caught your throat, slamming you back down onto the pillow, snatching it from under you to press your spine flat on the bed, hissing the labored breaths taken between his teeth, snarling.

"Did... or did I not tell you..." his free paw lightly slapped your reddening cheeks twice, "to **NOT** move? Hold your legs and," emptying you suddenly, it almost hurt as much as stuffing you, the tip of his fingers striking the apex of your slit with every puncturing word, strictly on your clit, " **DO**. **NOT**. **MOVE**."

You did your very best, howling behind forcibly fused lips, teardrops trickling down your temples into your hairline, huge unrelenting cock resuming its clobbering, a vast measure of his mass propped on palms atop your ribs, adorning you like a constricting corset - exertional gasps splicing the resonance of skin smacking. 

"Hands up!" He blurted out, your patellas then pinned by your shoulders, the heels of his rugged palms sinking in your kneepits. 

Forevermore bending and twisting your physique, warping his teeny ductile toy doll at his will, defiling and damaging the matter that covers a deranged and disheartened mind, much like his own, exactly like his own. The space behind your ears was thoroughly soaked with tears, moans spiked with whines. Your flesh gave, throbbed, quaked as he persisted, corrupting and impregnating you with the venom that runs in him.

Death.

The ephemeral one.

Sweet anesthesia at the end, when he releases your limbs and jittering pain flows through your sprained ligaments, when erroneously you sense your inflamed epidermis beginning to cool off and his moves are no longer tempestuous.

He supplies you with enough space to bring your feet down, his member slowly, soppingly being pulled out of you, your thighs meeting, rolling onto your flank with Kylo by your side, shielding you with his own built as soon as you found a favorable ample position to repose, leftover tears and feelings you cannot name pouring out, powerless digits finding his neck. And that hammering sphere of wretchedness, never extirpating, permanently there, in his chest and in his mind. Twenty solid minutes were spent in bed, cortisol slowing your breathing, diaphragms tensing, snuggling shapes shaking, prolactin, corticotropin and leucine-enkephalin pacifying the both of you. Your fingertips traced up his nape and jaw, the rest of his features softly felt for, your moistened touch barely noticeable, pulsating parched punch-hued plush pout directing oscules to the kind, loyal hands and to the despondent and resplendent guise looking back at him.

You got up, ambulating towards the washroom past the opened deep ocean-tinted frosted glass sliding door, with no need to close it for privacy - he was your privacy. Sitting on the vitreous china ceramic bowl, you exuded the unavoidable fluids from within, urine and lubrication and ejaculate, vivid candy red streaks on the overlapped, smooth paper used to wipe yourself, Ren sauntering into the bathroom, the warm skin of his soles sticking to the hardly noticeable asperity of the iron-toned slate tiles. He stalled in front of you, squatted. Pushing and pulling your pelvic muscles, blood dribbled out, his large thumb dragging along your entrance so delicately you would've barely felt it if you weren't looking. Dropping the stained sheets into the basin, you contorted to flush the toilet. And he gazed at you - lugubrious expression and lachrymose eyes, a soft tinge of rouge across his nose and cheeks, rose kisser swollen from the oppression of his teeth, the sensational, moistureless fine lines of his lips' tubercles spellbinding you. 

He hoisted you up, legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you back to bed, arms secured on his _collum_ and not letting go once he laid you on the mattress, Kratos granting the propinquity you coveted, blankets imprecisely covering both figures. Your nails composedly scraped the scalp under the unholy mess of pitch black hair, fingertips of one hand massaging along the cartilage and lobe of his left ear, relocating your right thigh over his hip, the well-kept, immaculately clipped fingernails of his compulsively grazing the top of your ass. Kylo's eyes closed, nose wiggling. Gingerly, you searched and scratched his itch, an indolent purr from his throat when he was satisfied, eyelids onerously disclosing a synthesis of browns scintillating as the sunlight swarmed your sanctuary.

"Morning." He regarded you, indomitable intensity.

You chortled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dem visuals:  
> Bathroom door: [style](http://tinyurl.com/z3ntqfl) plus [color and type of glass](http://tinyurl.com/zzjsmdy) (That is a sculpture by Mario Celori and I cried when I found it. Sadly or not, that's not a hyperbole.)  
> Toilet: [here](http://tinyurl.com/hrvnnkq)  
> Bathroom tiles: [here](http://tinyurl.com/hzk6bq5)  
> Bed: [here](http://tinyurl.com/h9eojos)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	28. Watchful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Self-mutilation
> 
> I had this chapter started but it was to be posted a long time from now. However, it felt the need to come forth, out of schedule. It's a short one.

He stood in front of the tilted, layered mirror in his room, staring at himself, naked. 

Immobile, looking.

He hurt so much that it didn't hurt anymore.

He did feel the cutting sting as he carved his thigh. Then again, a couple of inches lower. And he watched two thin gashes oozing bright crimson blood before they started marking their course down his mighty leg.

He felt dirty, yet his reflection was kind, not picking up the roughness of his dry lips, peeling, the softened almond shape of his eyes, eyelashes in clumps, absorbed tear trails leaving the salty tightness of skin in its path, his nose so stuffed he could only breathe through his mouth. His long hair was greasy and he smelled of grimy sweat. Kylo blinked a few times, clearing the fog that had set in his vision. Taking two fingers, he smeared some of the _haema_ , rubbing it between them and his thumb, thinning it into nothing.

Turning his left palm towards himself, he contemplated his adorned wrist, following up his arm, admiring the designs that hid veteran scars and exceptional moles, falling on his opposing blank wrist, for a moment thinking how barren that space seemed... He glanced back at the soiled knife, the scorching gushing blood tracks forgotten, clouded coagulated blotches, radiant raw slashes. But his head turned to the mirrored image of his mobile on top of the bed behind him. Smeary fingerprints entered a plead on the screen.

_"Please come."_

Your heart promptly began racing upon reading it. 

You knew something was wrong. 

_"I'm leaving now. Talk to me."_

Shoving your feet in boots by the door, you clutched the key fob and sprinted to your car, forgetting any outerwear and needing to get to his apartment as soon as possible, Kylo never answering the text, you trading the forty minutes on the subway for the sixteen driving, parking in the guest section of the complex. Scanned the access control token on the elevator panel, you couldn't help mashing his floor's button, breaking from its inwards to the locked main door, not quite able to discern anything your sight was skimming through, until you closed the opening behind your back.

The huge heathered tweed, leek-hued, sectional couch in the living room was upside down.

Your eyes widened at the scene.

Cold, stale air.

One of the dark curtains had been torn from its mount, the rod still caught on one side, which you would expect to fall, any time. It didn't, while you watched.  
Listening, you padded past the kitchen and into the corridor leading to the rooms, turning the heating on, something in whitish glass shattered in teensy bits as you made your way to the titan's chamber.

And there he was - balled up in a fetal position atop the king-sized mattress, facing away from the entrance. Quickly, you examined the floor: nothing broken, a shadowy stain by the dresser. Taking off your shoes discreetly, you narrowed the distance between you two, noiselessly laying next to his body, unable to shift your vision off of Kylo, overseeing his breathing.

He was awake.

Almost an hour must have passed when his mass twitched, convulsing like a pulsating heart, before he turned to face you, burying his head in the glow of your chest, pressing a little too hard, gripping your sweater a little too strong. His sweltering breath seeped through your clothes, against your stomach, your digits sinking in the cruddy ebony locks in need of a trim.

Heartbreak. Tangible heartbreak. The kind that makes you numb, but then demolishes your essence and your body feels it all. Every time. 

You couldn't take seeing him cry.

You surrendered to sobs and whimpers, holding him tightly against you till his respiration was moderated and his mourning pacified. The coruscating-eyed, grievous, hulking man involved you in the waned shambles of burgeoning tactility, scuffling with your top as he attempted and prevailed in its removal, tips of fingers and inflamed, tired hazel lamps thoroughly mesmerized by the texture of your skin, the temperature, the swellings and slumps of it, breasts, neck and face, all scrutinized to its most minute peculiarity.

During that time, his semblance, deadpanned, resolute, as if he **could not** , **should not** be interrupted.

So you waited.

Observant.

Unaware for how long.

Then at last his tremendous right fist hooked loosely on your nape, languidly flickering eyelashes, full, strawberry lips still parched and parted. Avoiding precipitous gestures, your built vacated the bed to draw a calming, invigorating bath, the schlepping, prodigious knight wordlessly following you since the sound of running water was identified by him. He stood motionless next to you, regarding as you fused a spill of rose water with the fuming contents of the tub, stripping the leftovers of your outfit. Then you joined him in his quiet examination. 

Stopping the cascading liquid, you held his hand for balance as you lifted one leg first, then the other, standing close to the center in the large, dim gray, concrete tub, sitting with your physique submerged and looking up, expectant, to the troubled _inamorato_. Ren took his legitimate place in between your thighs, sliding down and reclining onto you.

Cupping your paws, you let the fragrant water drip on his elongated curls, soaking them entirely, his pronounced brow bone furrowing at first in a precious, scrunchy-faced and vulnerable expression. You took one of his hands in yours and plucked the blood and skin from under his fingernails using your own. The angry red streaks along his leg were starting to dissolve. The lacerations on his thigh burnt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visuals:  
> Ren's bedroom mirror: [here](http://tinyurl.com/z6unf56), except [this orientation](http://tinyurl.com/grps7s4)  
> Ren's couch: [couch](http://tinyurl.com/jtrfwdx) but in [this material and color](http://tinyurl.com/gouco5o)  
> Ren's bathub: [here](http://tinyurl.com/js8qt3m)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	29. Anticipation

The seats in first class were the most comfortable you've ever been on. Too bad your row neighbors were chatty work buddies, talking about technicalities of something you could not decipher, having tuned into it midway, the lounges and bars they would go to throughout their stay in Florida and about plane crashes. 

Pleasant. 

But you figured they didn't care about who heard them, shrouded in the safety of another language. 

That you spoke. 

Turmoil sprout early in you, for they were quite raucous in a poised aircraft. Next to you, the graphite-clothed Goliath fussed for about five minutes with his phone, typing something before scrolling through playlists, glancing at you and plugging the earbuds instead of his noise-cancelling headphones, passing you one and letting the first notes of _Black Dog_ offer meek distraction from the babbling passengers.

Turning on your side to him, you shut your tired eyes for a bit, however, the side conversation became more heated. Reopening, you sighed, blinked before focusing on Ren's evidently enraged expression. You wondered if you should talk to him. Instead, you gave him back the earpiece and plucked your own headphones and your own mobile, playing the first thing on your music folder, but surfing through the next seven files before obliging a more apt song to outlast the initial fraction of second enough to justify your selection. The hypnotic vibration of the engines spread throughout the cushiony seat and lulled you into ataraxia, eyes lazily peeping at your companion whose fingers nonchalantly brushed against the back of yours, on purpose, frequently. Perhaps it was the altitude, but suddenly you felt like melted butter. And you weren't hallucinating when the consistently stoic and publicly inhibited god rested his palm against your inner thigh and slowly but firmly began caressing you. Kylo pointed his head in your direction, abstracted in the theme, frazzled by the mere notion of attending this event, long lower limbs enjoyably occupying a generous amount of the provided roomy area - to him it was not just about being a jerk to his mother and exploit her critical and deficient need to mend whatever she managed with her children, it was also really the only way this giant could fly there.

Faintly over the three hour mark, the plane was landing in Fort Lauderdale and you meandered past passengers looking for friends, while others hugged family members, visitors searching for their name on a sign, Ren feeling the aggravating puerile need to ignore the white board where 'Mr. Organa-Solo' was written in impacting black lettering and just go find a cab. But he didn't. He scorned at it in his mind, and you swear you could envision him screaming about how he legally changed his **fucking** name and he didn't have to **fucking** see those **fucking** last names **fucking** associated with him ever **fucking** again and yet, there they **fucking** were! You could hear that in your head, but aside from a barely detectable eye-roll and an overworking vexed jaw accompanied with mighty nostril flares, nothing came out.

Once you arrived at the hotel and checked in as part of the group, receiving one key each, you felt a skittish tension promptly germinating inside your chest and the more you tried to suppress it, the more it crushed you during the long elevator ride. As soon as the door to the room was opened, you dashed through it and into what your brain acknowledged as being a bathroom in the point two seconds given, slamming the entrance shut and releasing all the air that floundered within your lungs, hyperventilating, loosing control of all judgement.

Kylo listened behind the closed door, then very slowly tried to turn the handle, which gave in completely, and attempted to push quite lightly, but his action wasn't indulged as your back was against the solid, rice-tinted, wooden hatch.

"Have you looked outside? Place got a nice view." Himself taking the few steps separating him from the large windows, muscled arms crossing athwart his rib cage, crow-black eyebrows creasing as he squinted at the luminosity rebounding from the glassy water. Still, he heard your urgent gulps for air and his irascible heartbeat. Quietly, he neared the washroom. "Look at the ocean... so we can see the same thing at the... same time." 

He shook his head, realizing how trite that sounded aloud.

And you had the same reaction.

Nevertheless, your eyes did find the shades of Aegean and Arctic in the amplitude of blues. Concentrating on it, feathery footsteps lead to an aperture connecting the outside to you and unconscious hands unlocked that barrier ahead. Instantly, the distraught Colossus sneaked past the unguarded entry, scouting his surroundings, painstakingly perusing you, tapping the nail plate of his right middle finger on the brim of the minimalist, free-standing, rounded-corner bathtub twice not to scare you.

Your sight was undisturbed, bronchi and atria and ventricles all steadying. 

"We don't have to go..."

You did. 

He knew the guilt of accepting the first class plane tickets and the four day suite reservations would consume you much more than any panic attack and dysthymia. And as much as you wish to hide away, you were well aware your presence was required. Was the very least you could do. Pretend. Show face.

"It's alright." You continued staring at the sea ahead and feeling the abnormally warm weather for that time of the year. Sighing from the abysmal depths of your soul, you released nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide and emotion, leaning your head back as much as it would naturally go and looking straight up at the man flushed against your spine, who contemplated down at you. "It's alright."

Kylo's robust arms steadfastly engulfed your smaller form, while your core instinctively folded over them, like you lusted after that marriage of the material, because the spirit, that one, had always been shared. His right palm smoothed over your tresses and haltingly he liberated your torso, taking you by the hand to where your carry-on luggage laid, having been dropped in the last manageable moments of agitated apprehension, by the bed, and watching as you repositioned and opened it, fishing out the shoes you'd wear that evening and the _nécessaire_ with the makeup you would soon begin to apply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in a plane next to those two dudes talking about those things. And that's how a chapter is born. 
> 
> Visuals:  
> Hotel room bathtub: [here](http://tinyurl.com/hzx5s9q)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	30. Inkling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for tailor technical terms, yo!

" _Oh..._ "

Was all you could think, Ren wearing a tight, well-tailored, sleek pitch black nailshead suit, impeccable Egyptian cotton broadcloth shirt - you wanted to say 120s quality, 2-ply? - hiding his incredibly unforgiving pectorals, thin, three fold, untipped tie in two shades of, oh yes, black with a lighter background pushing forth the Damask embroidery and perfectly knotted with the Hanover around the unfused, high-stitch density collar, elegant cap toe, quarter brogue oxfords complimenting the look, as well as a dim Byzantium-colored pocket square, the fullest, most regal and sexiest purple shade, precisely placed in the breast pocket to mimic a nonchalant effort. And his hair. The mess of waves as dark as his soul always in disarray, screaming both style and anarchy. So much duality, so much incongruity.

You could've rubbed yourself on him like a cat in heat. But there was a purpose behind this display. And you didn't want to be late.

You wore a simple black sateen midi pencil dress, modest in its fabric expanse, three quarter sleeve, cinched at the waist with the aid of a thin, one-inch leatherette belt, skin tight from shoulders to knees, flaring slightly at the end where rear kick pleats allowed for wider, nevertheless gracious movements, straight from the fifties. Four-inch, round toe, T-strap heels elevating your usually grounded form, seamed, point heel, sheer coal-colored nylon stockings shielded your legs, inherited Tahitian black pearl drop earrings adorned the lobes of your ears, a true elegant and sober vision. With a pinch of death.

Leaving the security of your bedchamber, the descent to the ballroom was a reticent one, last touches in the mirrored cubicle, the monumental vision of a man withholding a smile to himself as he contemplated you and reflected on how he'd enjoy seeing you in heels more often. The elevator stopped twice, collecting an old man with a teen, sporting casual wear and talking about fishing the next day after saying their polite hellos to the pair of you, and a mermaid gown-wearing blonde siren with opulent lips, painted in highlighter, who disregarded you and batted eyelashes at Kylo during the rest of the ride down. Announcing its arrival to the second floor, the three formally attired individuals deserted the hindrance of the fish conversation and approached the grand entry of the event space.

You both walked in, trembling inside, looking confident and like you didn't quite care about the already present guests, blonde sashaying ahead of you to the early sparse crowd as you made your way to the assigned table where 'Kylo+1' awaited in gold script.

Standing next to it was his brother Matt in an exquisite walnut-hued suit, his bleached goldilocks forced into a tamed style, his date a tall brunette in an intense pineapple-tinged cocktail dress that left very little to the imagination, the sweet guy seemingly both nervous and apprehensive. Maybe he liked her. Maybe he regretted her bold fashion sense in such a composed environment. Approaching them, you had been filled on their acquaintance - work, not original, but that's as good of a place as any other. The brothers exchanged a few words, and you tried to make pleasant chit chat with the Amazon. Soon enough, the youngest triplet, Ben, was coming through the wide opened doors and with him his lovely partner on his arm and the twins he fathered: the rambunctious girl and the introvert boy, both with immense manes of dark curls, looking very classy in their little matching suit and frock. The pristine looks would only last some good two hours. Ben and his girlfriend, Desiree, approached the small group you partook in and greeted you all, the man squeezing shoulders and nodding to his brothers, offering you his cheek with a loose side hug and gripping the new girl's palm as they were introduced, his woman hugging you and his brothers, waving at the girl and asking how long has it been since she last saw you. Maybe eight months? Probably two years. The kids were all around Matt and Kylo, but they focused on the blonde who, more interactive and willing, entertained their every single idea.

Not long after, Leia, the matriarch, came from the backstage to greet her grandchildren who excitedly ran to her, sandwiching grandma in tight embraces and kisses and a million questions. She came closer to her sons then, thanking for their attendance, smiling at their dates, before stealing Ben's fiancée from you, smaller groups forming. You stepped aside to get a drink and moved closer to one of the full length windows. The main hall was beautiful and elegant, the sun was still up in the sky but you could barely wait to see the whole room light up with the massive chandeliers above. It was a semi-formal afternoon event for politicians, investors and businesspeople to parade themselves, but as the evening progressed it became a more intimate, more relaxed gathering, many of the imposing figures leaving for the night.

At your table, the twins were always gone exploring within sight unless food was served and a couple of guests had already left, a few of those seats being refilled with people who knew Leia's sons from many years ago or new people wanting to fall on their good side. Jackets were removed and hung on the backrest of chairs, occupations and boring hobbies being discussed.

New girl was loud. And a little ditsy. Or maybe it was your lack of patience, so quick to judge, so not open to the full extent of the definition of 'party'.

Your eyes wandered. To the lights, to faces you didn't recognize, to others you did, to the dance floor slowly being filled.

Almost on cue, Ben took his family by the hand and joined the music playing. You followed them in your visual field, twisting your neck back, and smiled at the dream of domestic happiness and the thought of how his life had changed. Facing forward you met Kylo's intense gaze, who swallowed and parted his voluptuous lips, unfolding his tongue and fully displaying it for you, before flicking the tip twice, shimmer catching on the barbell in it and quickly returning to the conspicuous safety of his mouth. He blinked slowly, head almost imperceptibly tilting towards an exit. Your orbs twinkled from the soft lighting above you and immediately you excused yourself to whoever wanted to hear, took a hold of your purse and followed the signs by one of the main entrances towards the restrooms. The most colossal of the men at the table fidgeted with the piercing in his tongue, biting it between his teeth, eyes trailing after the glittering ceiling lamps, stealing a look at Matt's girl - Mmmonica, Sssonya, he didn't care - and laying them upon the empty and almost empty glasses before getting up to his feet and stomping past the gathering chatty mob in the rear of the venue.

You waited by the bathroom's discriminating doors, arms resting across your chest. He scrutinized your figure and darted to the men's washroom, inspecting how empty it was. Noticing a single occupied stall, he lifted his index, gesturing for you to wait. Less than a minute after, a soft-faced _petit_ man with gelled hair passed by on his way out and offered a gentle smile which you reciprocated. With him out of sight, Kylo appeared by the entry and lifted his eyebrows, cocking his head.

He stood by the last stall, watching you walk to him from the top of his six-five stance, imagining in what manner he'll grab you in eight more seconds, high heels clicking on the polished floor, echoing through the sterile room, strutting to the small slot, him joining, locking the door.

Ren pulled you closer so quickly you don't think your brain fully captured it, prodigious powerful paws groping your ass, his knees dipping as he rutted against you like a dog, teeth finding your nape and biting hard on it, your nails finding his scalp, left cheek twitching.

Then he spoke, deep, vibrating opposite your rib cage. Or was that you rattling?

"Gonna fuck that pussy raw."

You shuddered. You were sure you could cum if he said 'pussy' enough times by your ear.

Nimble fingers rolled up your skirt to your waist and pulled your panties off as he turned your back to the wall, pocketing them, pulling right leg over his shoulder and staring at you.

"Mmm, garter belt for me?"

God, the way he smirked...

Suddenly he was pulling your left leg atop his other shoulder, your hands shooting both to the wall behind and his scalp, trying to keep balance. And... he... got up... lifting your body above the stall's privacy, exposing you till about where your dress was crumpled. You gasped and panicked, calling his name and all he did was bury his face in your cunt, your thighs instinctively pressing his head, teeth biting your outer lips when he felt that was enough struggling.

"AAAH! I'm sorry, Master Ren..."

"You're going to regret that," hands holding your waist, voice muffled by your folds. His mouth sucked your meaty lips into its warm wetness, stretching them and making you whimper, eyes watching the bathroom's door like a hawk as if you could prevent anyone from entering with the power of your thoughts, which were completely shattered when his adorned tongue flicked your clit fast and slow and fast and slow and fast and faster and pulled it into his mouth. So close to orgasm and he dropped you from his shoulders, letting you slide along his body. Strong forearms caught your spread thighs before allowing your feet to touch the ground for a split second while he turned you around and hoisted your legs once again over his arms, your own folded against your chest, bracing your frame on the wall as he brought you forth and shoved his tremendous cock in you, immediately pounding fast.

"Fucking... short pet... Rrr-can't fuck you the way I want to," he hissed as you bounced off his hips.

The hinges of a far stall screeched, your eyes widening, cunt clenching and Kylo's huge hand covering your mouth, still abusing you. You hoped the ragged breaths taken through your noses and the sound of his clothed hips mashing against your flesh wasn't as audible as the heartbeat in your ears. Then he slacked, thrusting deep and long twice, digging even further as if that was possible, leaving your cervix in pain. He removed his hand from your mouth and brought your knees together ahead of you while he sat on the toilet still buried in your heat.

You waited.

"I don't think they're leaving any time soon," he whispered to you.

You sighed and lingered, the giant lazily thrusting up into you, some of his seed spilling from within you and his digits catching it from his shaft before it reached his pants, feeding it to you. Absentmindedly, you cleaned them, concerned about the undesirable presence. Slipping his fingers out, Ren shifted you on his lap, one leg going over his body so you could face him as you mutely giggled due to the unnecessary efforts you were both doing. His softened dick glided off of you and you both dripped into the porcelain throne, the pads of your fingers following the sizable scar on his features, which he allowed till he leaned forward to kiss your neck, licking a path to the exposed collar bones where he planted a couple more smooches, skin tightening with pleasurable shivers. Glancing up at your satisfied look, the strong fists fumbled with the invisible zipper at your back enough to partially pull the fabric obscuring your left breast, salivating mouth coercing your flesh into its confinement, sucking bruises around the areola. Your ankles lifted and tucked behind him when another set of feet strutted through the bathroom, occupying the stall next to you, your heart racing from both the fear of somehow being caught and the set of luscious lips and skilled tongue worshiping your nipple then. The recent occupant did his business, washed his hands and whistled his way out. The first invader still hiding. Encompassing your Master's head you tilted it up, lips promptly replaced with his fingertips.

"Perhaps we should leave. That guy either wants to be alone or is listening to us."

Ren rolled his eyes, pinching the hardened nub severely and releasing you. Getting up to your feet, he helped you with the fastening of your dress.

"Can I have my panties?"

"No. They're staying with me." He patted the front of his black trousers, after tucking himself in.

Squinting, you shimmied the smock down your hips, flickering any stubborn crease off. Peeking over your shoulder to the giant who remained stuck on your ass, you unlocked the door and quietly attempted to escape the lavatory, heels inevitably clicking on the way out as you cursed yourself and unleashed the breath in your lungs once you were free in the antechamber, screeching when Kylo smacked your butt and kept walking, hands in pockets, your purse lodged under his armpit, unceremonious bow-legged flair.

You both returned to your table. The immense room appeared even larger as patrons and guests withdrew, leaving hollowed dents at the tables throughout. Ben sat outstretched, right arm over the backrest of your seat, left leg on top of another empty spot, all sweaty from dancing and running around with his kids, opened white shirt posing too much pressure on the third button, like his chest screamed for merciful release, yet he couldn't hear it. Poised, you sat on your chair, the man insignificantly straightening himself, your Master taking his seat across from you while looking daggers at his brother, the youngest triplet retorting with a smug look, the middle sibling coming through the main double door. From the far left corner you saw that same golden-haired _femme_ advancing, glancing at the three of you and resting her hand on Kylo's shoulder to catch his attention. He flinched, head shooting towards the startling vixen, who took her opportunity to kickoff conversation with a giggled apology. Ben spontaneously ogled her, fixing eyes on his brother as he smirked, tipping over you.

"Wanna dance?"

You stared at Ren. Who stared at his kin. And at you, when not glimpsing at the girl, who took the seat next to him, still chatting in her loud frequency. Drilling holes into the female's temples, you eyeballed the man propositioning you - neck-length, rich dark taupe waves, the concoction of browns in his eyes all three siblings had, his skin, less mole-peppered than Ren's, more than Matt's, the light shadow of incoming facial hair encompassing his lips, a carefree stance of the same breadth they shared. Your owner however was a couple inches taller, muscles much more defined, a powerhouse, while the youngest was well-built, not as big, you thought. Ben looked at everyone like he knew he was going to fuck them. Well, he used to, having cleaned up his act when he found out one of his old girlfriends got pregnant and didn't want to keep anything that was his. But right there he chaffed his minutes-older sibling, egotistical sly smile as he lecherously looked at you and awaited your response.

"Let's go."

Leaving your clutch on the table, you got up and carried yourself to the dance area, catching a flash of the middle triplet with his date. Desiree and the twins were nowhere in sight. On one hand, you couldn't help but wonder if you'd regret this decision later, on the other hand... it was just dancing.

Kylo watched it all from his provisional throne: the last sneer Ben threw him before focusing solely on you, twirling you, seeking to grind on you; his pet, swaying but exhibiting emotional disengagement; his brother Matt, who wouldn't refrain from peeking at you for too long, the girl dancing with him also detecting it and speaking by his ear, in an impartial fashion.

Coming to himself he noticed the girl yapping her head off was gone and she had left a model scout business card with a handwritten number in the back. With a heart. Frowning, he sunk the paltry piece of paper in a random glass of champagne two chairs away and kept scrutinizing the dance floor, but as soon as the slow tunes began, the two men and women retreated to their homebase. Capturing your eye, he nodded to the side, silently asking you to take the spot next to him, Ben dropping onto the chair he occupied next to your formal seat, Matt ensuing him and the girl across. The largest of the behemoths shoved his hands in his trouser's pockets, fingers fondling the texture of the panties he had stored there, lazily laying back while he approached your ear.

"Had fun?"

Taken by surprise, you examined his appearance. And he seemed sincere in his question. You simply shrugged.

"My feet hurt. And," quickly looking at the other faces, you pulled your skirt over your knees, four of your digits rubbing the inside of your thigh and being displayed with a thinly spread mixture of his cum and yours, "there's this."

Apathetically, he evaluated.

"Put them in your mouth and clean them." Seeing as your sight was taken somewhere else, he inconspicuously turned to see his bleach-blonde sibling oblivious to your conversation, but nonetheless aware to the pair of you, causing Ren to repeat his whispered demand. "Suck your fingers clean."

With the benevolence of low lighting, you attempted to conceal your actions behind the Lord's massive torso, no apparent manner to make licking your hand a refined gesture, hoping Ben, who was the only one able to see you, would not disconnect from the dialogue with Leona.

"All done?" Kylo waited for your shy nod. "Good filthy whore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No visuals for Ren's suit because I got so detailed (and lazy in my search) that I'm not sure I could find an image of the described suit.  
> This being said, dem visuals are as following:  
> Your dress: [overall silhouette and sleeves](http://tinyurl.com/zro6nw5) but with [this neckline](http://tinyurl.com/jqqzwwe)  
> Your shoes (I do not appreciate the suede though, but up to you): [here](http://tinyurl.com/hdlbo89)  
> Your stockings: [here](http://tinyurl.com/zl3n2aq)  
> Your earrings: [Tahitian Black Pearls](http://tinyurl.com/jqdc4vu)  
> Matty's suit (forget that tie...): [this style](http://tinyurl.com/ju7mhbt) but in [this color](http://tinyurl.com/zglvse7)  
> Leona's dress (wrong shade of yellow though): [here](http://tinyurl.com/z2getpv)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	31. Paucity

After the event on the second floor, every family member turned in for the night, ascending to the higher levels and matching their cardkey numbers to the doors'. Leia had taken the twins into her quarters, having Ben's room next to hers, and on the other side, Kylo's. Matt split a wall with you on the leftover lateral. 

After the rush of flying in and getting ready in such little time, you then had a moment to evaluate the room - was sumptuous in its snowy linen corner slipper chairs, sheets and vertical blinds covering wall-length windows leading to the shared lengthy balcony; an immense bed propped on a low grayed birch platform was the centered focus of the boudoir, coordinating grand neoteric washroom extending to the right. Your opened luggage awaited by the _fenestræ_.

For about an hour you could hear the kids' excited babbling and muffled laughter and chatter, on both bordering chambers. Yours was quiet, formal clothes being undressed, makeup being removed at the sit-down vanity. The gigantic male filled the tub and captured your physique to join him. His skin glowed with the dampness of warm water.

 

*

 

In the morning, Ren was out of sorts and knowing he might not want to go down for breakfast, you splashed your face with water, applied a moisturizer and threw a slip-on dress. You curled a jet black strand in a spiral around your index, before your thumb smoothed over the short hairs of his eyebrow and your lips came in contact with the two very fine lines on his faintly oleaginous forehead, the prominent brow bone softening as the darkness of his eyes deliquesced and trailed after your mitigating aura encompassed by the anatomy that captures his veneration and perversion.

Arriving at the restaurant floor, you immediately spotted the two tall replicas of the man in your bed by the buffet area, Matt's date from the previous night was already sitting at the table, smiling and waving in your direction once she spotted you. Your own hand lifted towards Leona in a shy gesture, feet taking you to the brothers and the vast array of food choices spread across three long sideboards.

"Good morning!" The blonde triplet grinned down at you, which was easily repaid.

"Hey, hey! So how have you been?" Ben snaked between you and his older sibling, holding a half-full plate in his enormous hands, plucking crispy bacon from its pile, playfully leaning against you.

"Well. How about you?" 

"Splendid. Is the mopey Sasquatch joining us or did he dick you too hard last night?"

A sputtering, choking noise escaped Matt who was chewing on a miniature pastry, coughing and punching his youngest brother on the shoulder, calling him a 'moron' and reprimanding him for the invasive and insensitive question. 

"What? I'm simply making sure he's taking care of her," he stole another of Matt's tiny tarts and popped it in his mouth, beaming at him and you.

" **'Her'** is right here and what is it to you, Benny Boy?"

Ben masticated with his lips parted, noisily, the half-lidded chocolate eyes raking over your figure, up and down, as he swallowed the contents after. 

"Didn't hear anything last night...", turning to his brother, "did you hear anything last night?"

The middle triplet rolled his eyes and walked away, sitting next to the girl who accompanied him the previous evening and starting to eat.

"You were two rooms away, how were you supposed to hear?"

"Well, from what I remember seeing in Kylo's browser when we were kids... Plus... I've always assumed you were a screamer..."

"Hmm, with your kids in the next room I had to be quiet," you whispered, smiling, and lifted your finger to your lips, lying with all your teeth.

He smirked while you filled your plate, Leia and Desiree arriving with the twins, occupying the open seats in the spacious white circular surface, the corner of your eye picking up Ren's broad physique who had indeed decided to come down for coffee, skipping the empty place next to you and sitting alone, however Ben sat between him and the new girl.

Suddenly, Ben's little boy got up from his chair next to Cari and grandma, some dark locks of silky hair falling over his eyes, gloomy countenance you attributed to his still dozy state, hesitant small feet carrying him to the uncle he resembled the most, sitting in the lonely chair separating you and Kylo. His nephew stared up at him for some time, everyone else eating and chatting, the most colossal of the giants at the table sipping on his black coffee, grimacing either due to taste or temperature. Then the little hand tugged on his t-shirt sleeve, the titan's attention caught as he proceeded to lower his right ear to Aric's level, murmuring an inaudible reply to him and engaging in a soft spoken miniscule conversation. You observed the scene and felt warm invisible strings pulling at your heart, an icy chill also diffusing across your back. The little girl was all about her grandmother, babbling excitedly about wanting to go to the hotel's pool, which she saw from the room's balcony. Raising her voice slightly, Leia informed the adults about the rooms having been paid for three more nights and said she'd have to leave after lunch time. With the revelation, her oldest son fidgeted in his seat, but got up, deciding to get himself some food. Matt lowered his gaze to the plate ahead of him while aimlessly messing with his eggs. 

Once everyone finished breakfast, Leona said her goodbyes, withdrawing to her room to retrieve her weekender and leave for the airport, while Matt took the twins to the pool with the rest. You, on the other hand, went up to your own room with Ren for a while, even though you felt he wanted to be alone. There, he yelled, huffed and puffed, complaining about his mom, screaming about how she couldn't even stay a couple more nights with her grandchildren, repeating the same mistakes she made twenty years ago. Names were called, curses were thrown and everything standing atop the desk was launched to the floor as you trembled, not exactly fazed by his actions, but perhaps anger or adrenaline.

"If she's leaving soon, shouldn't you be there for them and support them?"

He lurched towards you and stopped right in your face, indomitable snarl taking over his features, wild crow-colored tresses matted on his neck. Then darted to the bathroom, slammed the door.

You waited. For movement, for sound, for something.

Ten minutes into it, the slip-on dress was being removed and your swimsuit was replacing it underneath a sheer coverup, and approaching the washroom's door, speaking in a leveled tone, notifying him of your intentions of meeting them at the pool, the mostly calm statuesque man asking you to wait. Exiting already with t-shirt in hand, he switched jeans for board shorts, shirt for tank and left the room with you, putting his hair up while striding to the outdoor pool.

The sun was shining and kids were screaming. You shed you _pareo_ by the lounge chairs where Ben sunbathed and chatted with his mother in a hushed tone and got in the shallow part with the energetic little ones, as well as Matt and Desiree. Ren sat by the edge of the pool, long, strong legs dipped in the water. Ben's daughter climbed onto the tall blonde's shoulders, who fell back, submerging them both. However, she swam out and kept on climbing her playful uncle, enthusiastically shouting 'again!' Her brother drew near you, touching your arm and asking if you wanted to play in the deeper part of the man-made lagoon. Exchanging reassuring looks with Desiree, you then escorted him to said more profound area, his father leaving his spot and sitting by Kylo, who was witnessing the illustration of a not-so-foreign concept. Taking your cue, Matt took his niece towards you, their future stepmom scoring a floating mattress and getting on it with you and the twins, short women and children safe from the deep blue sea monster portrayed by a roaring and splashing Matt.

Away from the fun representation, Ben spat to Kylo how he's annoyed with the matriarch, already on her phone and walking further from her family, resuming himself to the silence his eldest brother gifted him. Until the twins scream for daddy and uncle Ky, that is. They both got up and walked to the chairs, Kylo removed his top and hung it on the furniture, running together and bombing into the water, everyone who sat close to it being drenched, including two older couples and three girls, you and Matt delivering apologies to the affected attendants. 

Instantly, you became self-aware, having glanced at the splayed, tanned society-standardized women watching Ben and Kylo, the monumental sex gods, wrestling in the pool. It all came like a tidal wave. So you played with the kids some more, then excused yourself, dismounting the rubbery floater, swimming to the ladder and exiting as fast as possible. All along, Matt's eyes followed you to dry land. You quickly wrapped yourself in a rental towel and sat on one of the chairs, mentally forcing your feet to not move and run away immediately, preventing some sort of scene. Ben and Kylo approached the kids and the eldest quickly noticed you were gone, Desiree leaving with Cari to use the restroom.

Locking eyes, he signaled you, swimming closer to the edge. That was when all the hotties got up and went to sit by the pool in front of him. Adonis looked up at them, with their long extensions, huge shades, fake tans and flat waist-trainer tummies, big rounded tits, tiny thongs pulled so high they were all showing camel toes, and they asked him his name, turning to include his brothers, squealing about how cute the twins were, one of them getting in the pool and wading towards Ben, who grabbed his boy almost as a barrier between him and the danger ahead. Matt gandered between the girls, his brothers and you, propped on the chair, stomach churning, swallowing the unexpected bile down, when Kylo abruptly talked to the nymphs. 

"I'm busy here."

"OHHHHH!" Ben turned to Matt, eyebrows shooting up in reaction to the dissing shut off, laughing away from the event still taking place, when his _fiancée_ returned with his daughter, who rejoins them, getting back in the water.

The woman in the man-made lagoon detoured and swam away, wanting to avoid whatever else could happen, seeing as Ben excessively waved to Desiree and the boy in his arms called out for 'mom'. With you still under his spotlight, Ren signaled for you to get back in the water with him. You gave the gargantuan male nothing but a pressed-lip smile, shaking your head, getting up to your feet as your hands pulled on the resting sarong a few seconds after and leaving to your hotel room. Ben's girlfriend had sat close to you and called out your name, but you swiveled briefly and waved her off as politely as you could muster at that moment, Kylo watching you go. She hollered for her _fiancé_ , but Ben needed a minute, letting Aric swim away and turning to Matt.

"Don't look at me!"

"Don't look at you?! I can see your boner from here, dude, not doin' a great job hidin' behind the floater." Ben quietly mocked his triplet, himself undergoing the exact same unwanted, unbridled effect the amount of breasts and bottoms had provoked.

Matt's jaw tensed and a furiously peachy blush spread across his ears and chest. Not having it, Kylo sprung out of the pool to chase you, lunging for one of the rental towels atop the _chaise_ lounges and wrapping himself with it, Desiree's thin eyebrows ascending, wide-eyed in awe, impressed at how low his shorts were riding and how they managed to stay put despite the force he hauled himself up from the water.

You had been in the room for half a minute when he burst through the door.

"What's wrong?"

You shook your head, scowling dismissively.

"What. Is. Wrong? Tell me."

"I didn't need to be there."

"When I call you to the water, you get back. Into. The fucking. Pool," his voice deeper, words terse, looming.

"It was family time, Ren. I shouldn't be there." Your smile forlorn.

"You should obey me, that's what you should do," he yanked you by the arm to him. "What? Saw the hot girls trying to make a move and felt overridden? Because your legs aren't as long? Because your tits aren't as flawless? Your swimsuit not as tiny?" He walked you back, spitting the words as if he could read your mind, towering over you, two large fists twitching by his side. "I. Was. Calling. For. **YOU!** " That last word almost roared, his chin quivering, mouth salivating, particles landing on you who still shuddered with your eyes cast down as much as his close stance allowed you. 

His expression became composed, his jaw moving as he shifted his tongue in his mouth, chewing on nothing. 

"On your knees."

You assumed your position, head bowed. After a few seconds, outside your room, a door opened and closed, something heavy being dragged. Your hands undid the drawstring of his dark, violet to bright rose _ombré_ Hurley shorts, letting them fall around his ankles, big soft dick hanging free. His right index pressed against your forehead and poked you back, eyes meeting his half-lidded ones.

"Make it hard and suck it." Precise and imposing.

You leaned forth, pressing kisses to the expanse of his shaft, resting your hands on his thighs that he promptly swatted away. So, no hands. You insisted on the kisses, licking your lips, getting some attention to his sac, member laying over your nose and cheek before you realized it was slowly lifting, hardening, your tongue lapping up stripes of musk and saltwater along the scrotum, Ren's breathing now audible. He nudged you back with his knee.

"Open."

You did as told, jaw slacking, making room for the half-erect cock, lips closing around the head, the skin still giving with your tongue but quickly feeling the rushing blood making it thicker and firmer. Soon he was thrusting his hips into you, forcing you to take more of him.

"You're gonna take all of it." You whimpered, almost sobbing around his length, he nodded. "Yeah, you are."

Before he kept true to his word, you swirled your wet tongue around his glans, pressing it along the bottom of the shaft as you welcomed him, then popping back up, kissing and sucking his frenulum, clear precum puddling at the top of the slit. While you readjusted in your spot, he took hold of his erection, bouncing it on your lips. You parted them again and he positioned at the entrance.

"This is it."

His ample hand grabbed your locks tight as he started to ease in, slowly, relentlessly. You gagged and gurgled and he kept going, heavy exhales through his nose.

"Swallow i-t... Take it, take it, take it, take it, take it all. Take it all the way down..."

Ren stopped when your nose flushed with his skin. You spasmed, oxygen hardly going through your air ways, eyes watering. He pulled half off of you with a moaned curse, prior to start savagely fucking your skull, saliva shamelessly pouring off your mouth, the most absurdly filthy sounds coming from you. Till he dislodged himself from your throat, keeping his spit dripping dick, swollen, red in front of your face.

"Kiss it goodbye."

You did.

"Thank you, Master Ren."

He snatched you up by the arm again, practically ripping your swimwear off, letting you stand bare-skinned in front of him for a bit. He then moved, putting his long wet hair down.

"You don't own these," his hands captured your breasts, squeezing them in his huge hands, "you don't get to compare these tits with theirs. These belong to me."

"Yes, Master Ren."

The leviathan kneeled down and caressed your sides, reaching your hips, groping your ass and trailing down your limbs.

"You don't get to feel bad about these legs... They're mine. For me to mark."

"Yes, Master Ren."

He moved his face to your center, thumbs spreading your folds, inhaling your scent in a deep breath.

"Think your swimsuit is not stylish enough?" His eyes raised, not wavering from yours, as he unraveled his tongue and licked one-two-oh god-four times, that damned barbell snagging on your hood every single time he did so. "You don't need a swimsuit."

"I don't need a swimsuit, Master Ren."

He resumed his standing pose, hoisting you up as he step forth and kneeled in the center of the lavish bed, your arms encircling his solid neck, fingertips irrationally playing with the damp curls of _sumi_. Another door's drowned clunk. The enormous man nuzzled into your collar and spoke, calmly, susurrating by your ear.

"Wear your secrets in fearlessness, my precious little whore."

You mewled, gooseflesh instantly spreading from your chest cross your body, his warm, soaked tongue lapping at your lobe, teeth soon sinking on it.

"Mmmmm, gonna fuck that anguish out of you..." With those words and the aid of two digits, he lined his bulbous head and lowered your pelvis onto him, your face scrunching. "Let go and lie back."

You lingered, bewitched. He released your thighs, the weight of your loosened torso pushing you flushed with his lap, as Kylo detached your clasped limbs, one paw intertwining with you hair, tugging your head towards the ceiling and shaking you a bit.

"Lie back, bitch! Can't have you feel inadequate..."

As he held you by the waist, you leaned back onto the bed, spine curving down as your shoulders, arms and head hit the mattress. Completely sheathed inside you, he caressed all flesh he could reach, hungrily seizing and twisting your skin, lethargically pulling the unforgiving thickness of his member out till nothing but the very tip of it still rested in its legitimate spot.

"Who do you belong to?"

"I belong to you, Master Ren."

"Who owns your body?"

"You do, Master Ren."

" Why?"

Well, he caught you there.

"I... don't know, Master Ren."

The expression that flashed through his face was one of confusion. And like he was almost... hurt. You didn't know the answer. You didn't know why you were his pet. You didn't know what he saw in you. You didn't know what he felt for you.

All you knew was what you wished he did.

The longer he waited, the more that sunk in, in both of you. Oblivious. Wishful.

And it was making you both weaker, beyond the already resident self-feebleness, jaws tensing to shove tears back into their ducts, lost, lonely souls.

His hips snapped into yours with such unwavering strength, a punishing rhythm being chosen from the start, g-spot, c-spot, everything filled in and pushed on and brushed against, pain and pleasure and lack of control, your hands shooting to his own clutching your lower back, nails sinking into the meat. Kylo's head lolled back but he couldn't take his eyes off of your body quaking under him, with the force of his thrusts, the smacks of your bodies together weaving with complaints and curses and cries.

Too soon, your whole body was tingling, an unremitting wave sprouting from your womb and stemming to all limbs as if flowing through veins and arteries alongside oxygen-rich blood, the ripples increasing in intensity, muscles taut and the limelight of your lucidity directed at him, like there was only him, because there was only him, with his grunts and gasps and growls.

"Cum for me." The bass of the voice that trained you reaching your ears, flooding your senses and enkindling subservience, an overpowering climax overflowing the catatonic martyrdom of your neurotic amorousness.

Your body exploded with the acme of paroxysm, incapable of subduing or manipulating any part of your body and of your intellect. Kylo's forceful ramming incessant as he wreathed you, curling over himself, crossing and holding his own forearms tightly around your hips, fucking you the fastest he could, the harshest he could, flying completely off the handle with what he had displayed in front of him, what he heard, what he felt all over him. He was so close and your orgasm was so long.

"Ffff-uuughhh! Free it... Ahhh-let it... cohme!"

You shrieked and you wailed and you spoke nonsensical things, threatening him, howling disoriented sounds. And under his knees, the comforter dampened, the sonority of both your anatomies together much more liquescent, Ren ebbing three quarters of his desecrating, pulsing cock and witnessing the copious volume of fluid gushing out from in between your puffy, mouthwatering labia. Thirsting, he wanted very badly to attach his mouth to your cunt and guzzle all juices, but the frenzy inside him allowed for nothing more but to sink himself back into you and stuff his seed in spurts deep in your clenching cunt, whimpering deliriously and deliciously.

Both your bodies slid upwards on the bed as he pressed on his knees, pushing further inside of you, kissing your neck, panting.

"Mmm... You know you're mine," his fingertips brushed your forehead and cheeks, "I chose you and you chose me, don't think I'd throw that away... I wouldn't. I won't."

"Ren, I-" Stopping yourself, he gave you time to continue, yet you did not.

Instead, reverential digits combed through the humid raven mane, gathering it all to one side over his shoulder, the mollified mountainous man canting into your caress, nudging the plain between your breasts with his regal nose.

"I know the way you see yourself won't change... but I thought you knew how I see you..."

"You never told me."

Words always left unsaid.

His chin situated atop your sternum, pensive look setting on his marvelous face, eyes lost somewhere on your skin, prior to dragging himself off of you and getting up on his feet, spent.

He threw his shorts back on and opened the balcony door, firm hands encasing the railing as he leaned on it, the unwinding resonance of the waves crashing onto the shore competing with the noise of people at the beach, the ocean air you loved soothing your ravished and satiated figure to rest mystified among rumpled sheets on the huge, luxurious bed. 

Still, Kylo picked up another sound. 

Consistent. Muffled. 

Barefoot, he took a few steps to his left and the fuss seemed to increase in intensity. Paralyzed, he stuck in place before reaching the windows that lead to Matt's room - the sound polluted his mind, wouldn't allow him to ignore it, when all he wanted was to turn around, return to his room and forget it. And then he swore his brother whispered it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a loser who didn't notice the twin's names are anagrams of each other until after I wrote the chapter after this. I had chosen them at different times and for specific reasons but haven't thought of them together... Lame. But I ain't changing them! I do what I want!!!
> 
> Now, onwards with the visuals:  
> Slip-on dress (color up to you, I'm always all for black everything): [here](http://tinyurl.com/gqrguzz)  
> Ren's board shorts: [here](http://tinyurl.com/z7ancpo)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	32. Prognostication

Leia was gone. Ben moved his family to the newly vacated, adjoined room as it was much larger and the twins had been staying there with grandma anyway.  


At the beach, the two babbling five-year-olds fingerpainted everyone with sunscreen, going from warpaint to frilly flowers and suns, Cari standing in between her uncle's legs, high, curly ponytail swinging as the little one very attentively went over his shoulder and knee scars, the blimp-sized male shrinking and wincing, never prepared for others to make physical contact with him.  


"Take off yo' glathes, Uncle Ky. I won't hurt you," the young girl informed in a very downhearted way.  


Astounded by her so matter-of-fact, almost crushed statement, he glided the wayfarers up, pushing his hair back and displaying his face for his niece, furrowing eyebrows as he watched a fat blob of goopy coconut-scented lotion drip from her little index finger as she approached the targeted face-splitting cicatrix.  


"That's too much," he receded.  


"It's not," she insisted with a small stoic voice, threatening digit hovering.  


"Do not put it in my eye, Cari!"  


"Uncle Ky! I won't put it in yo' eye."  


"Hmm. Go ahead."  


Excessively cautious, the child dabbed her tiny fingertip from his jaw to his forehead. And suddenly he remembered when the twins were two and Cari was so frightened of him because of precisely that mark, while Aric, quieter yet braver, didn't even seem to care about the large, salmon-colored fibrous tissue, rather staring at his uncle's narrow eyes, disconcerting him. The girl currently only seemed to avoid the extensive scar that adorned his left flank.  


"That's enough."  


"You need a flower, Uncle Ky."  


"I have enough flowers on my arms, Cari."  


The child inspected his tattoos, as if for the first time. He was right.  


"I'll give you an umbrella!"  


You watched the scene, already sporting the cave paintings the twins bedecked you with - Aric had done an ankh on your stomach, revealing his interest in the kid-friendly book about Egypt he had been cradling earlier that day, and the girl had designed waves on your right leg and a sun on your back. The boy applied the finishing touches to Matt's chest, an authentic pocket-sized Picasso, with his thick lines and exaggerated features at impossible angles.  


_"Just like his family,"_ you mused.  


Desiree took enough photos to her heart's content, laughing at Ren's exasperated expression, Ben squatted by his daughter, phone in hand, snapping a picture when she at last claimed to have concluded her masterwork, showing it to the oldest triplet.  


"Cari... it looks like a hotdog on a stick."  


"It's an umbrella!"  


He simply blinked at her, everyone else snickering and giggling.  


"I thaid I'd draw you an umbrella, Uncle Ky! To protect you from the thun! You have flowerth and water, you needed an umbrella!" Her reasoning made all the sense in the world.  


"... but it's a hotdog."  


Aric had approached the defaced giant's backside and dragged the corners of said wiener down, turning it into what could resemble indeed a folding canopy of a parasol. If one squinted. Suddenly, his sister rounded the complaining uncle and examined her adulterated art, screeching and bringing two closed young fists down on her brother, their father scooping the writhing, wailing attacker up, while the blonde uncle snatched the shaky, sniffling boy, you and Ben's _fiancée_ checking the little one's face for any lesions. Cari cried and kicked and the youngest triplet walked away towards the breaking undulation with her against his rib cage, returning when she gave up and held on to daddy's neck, putting her down by her twin and pulling the blush-cheeked one from his brother's hold, forcing them to stand in front of each other, gripping their forearms in each of his massive paws.  


"You don't mess with your sister's drawings. You didn't do it, you don't touch it," he leveled with the boy in a stern timbre, "You don't hit your brother. That's not how you deal with things. Look at his face," he then spoke to the girl.  


She reached for his teeny palm, hanging at his side, and held it, verbalizing she was sorry in a grieved tone, while he pouted, somber and weepy countenance, the tiny opening of his hooded eyes cast on the sand, the left brow ridge still throbbing a bit, pronouncing his apologies. They hugged and pecked in a pure, clumsy form, taking their spots by their new mom, who offered them water and half a _panini_ each, you taking the male twin's salted, eerie black mane and securing it in a high, fluffy bun, a couple of shorter, unyielding strands falling around the tender features, registering in your head and in your chest as the amalgam of gleaming cool gray and goldenrod tones in his eyes flashed at you.  


As you and Desiree tended to the little ones, the triplets had gotten up and ambled off, two collected postures and a vastly more casual and jovial stance on their unrushed path to the intertidal zone, apparently conversing according to their body language. The differences between the three of them, from afar, were very few - Matt had his unnatural, customized blonde hair, Kylo had tattoos. Their physiques looked like they were part of an evolving diagram: the bleach-haired brother being the representation of tall and titillating, with his thickness hardly manipulated, toned muscles due to daily task exertion and the infrequent workout, often overlooked in behalf of his lovable, kindhearted nature; Ben had demarcated abs, robust arms and athletic pectorals, clearly swimming and hitting the gym whenever he could schedule it in; Kylo was a _bona fide_ beast, the kind that fits Hollywood Barbarian misrepresentations and video game fantasy, a breathing image of the participants in the Panhellenic Games who would be immortalized in art forevermore, or the embodiment of the gods who they honored. Everyone always glanced at them, whether because they felt intimidated or attracted or intrigued.  


Dissevering from your contemplation, you attempted ordinary conversation.  


"So... when is the wedding?"  


"Oh, we didn't set a date and we're not in a hurry. It's more of a formality, in case they give me a hard time when putting in the papers to adopt these two... since our relationship isn't exactly that looong-established, you know?"  


"Yeah, yeah, I get it," you offered reflexively, humored by the children's shenanigans.  


"How about you?"  


"What about me?"  


"When are you and Kylo going to get married?"  


"Oh! No, no, no, it's not... like that..." Shaking your head, you peeked between her and the kids, harmoniously playing in the sand, giving voices to imaginary characters, one hand supported in the air as they kept nibbling on their sectioned Cuban sandwich. "We're not... dating... it's-"  


"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to butt in, it's just that I always thought you two were steady... You've been together for way longer than I've even known any of them for, so..."  


"No... I've known them longer than you, but... it's not... that."  


"Well, whatever works for you guys!"  


Desiree grinned at you and you felt observed, scrutinized in your tight-lipped simper and nod, lifting your head towards the ocean and meeting Kylo who stood facing you dead-on, his rear turned to the crashing tide, arms folded at chest level as the siblings carried on talking amongst themselves. At that point, Ben dumped the group, shoving his brothers and wading as he entered the water, diving in while the other two looked on, sticking to the parley in the knee-high surf. Matt turned in your general direction as well, lingering, both of them mute for a while, teetering in place prior to scouting their surroundings and engaging back in conversation.  


"I'm done! I'm going to get water," the boy jumped up and plucked the _Pantone_ -red pail with baby blue handle that was part of a set you had given them through Matt on their third birthday and sprinted to his uncles by the sea.  


"Waaaiiit!"  


His sister rushed after him, shoving the last of her food in her mouth, Desiree scolding Cari and yelling for her not to run. The girl continued at a slower pace, chewing and reaching the other family members, one of her hands holding out to Kylo's danger zone as she coughed, him crouching by his niece, a huge limb patting on her back as she braced against the human boulder, his eyebrows scrunching in alarm and fear for a moment. And then she was fine. Matt splashed an exceedingly enrapt Aric, who giggled and hoisted his brimming bucket, uprooting the tiny feet that kept sinking in the wet sand with every backwash and then grasping the teasing uncle's palm.  


"Wanna come back with us?" The blonde addressed the little girl, occupied with the dark lord's tresses.  


"Yeth, we're building a tomb and we need help with the tharc- what's the thing?"  


"Sarcophagus," the boy assisted his twin.  


Cari locked hands with the mid-triplet as well. Kylo gestured to his brother, indicating he would remain there, and removed his sunglasses, installing them on his sibling's head, plodding through the breaking tide and disappearing into the Aegean color, only his powerful arms rising above sea level as he swam further out.  


Matt lumbered along with the kids, jabbering and laughing, halting to grant his niece enough time for her to pick up two tiny shells from the shore, resuming the reversing trip, his grin lingering as he looked forward in the women's direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who gave Aric the book on Egypt? This is an easy question.
> 
> The visuals:  
> Ren's sunglasses: [Givenchy](http://tinyurl.com/hoaxppz) cause classy fuck  
> Sunscreen: [Hawai'ian Tropic](http://tinyurl.com/hoaxppz)  
> Cuban sandwich: usually consists of [ham, roasted pork, Swiss cheese, pickles and mustard on hot-pressed Cuban bread](http://tinyurl.com/zvrvc8o) (similar to white French bread)  
> Beach toys: [here](http://tinyurl.com/hyfm25p)  
> Tiny shells: choose one from [here](http://tinyurl.com/gws5pve) and another one from [here](http://tinyurl.com/jbsyepl)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	33. Gossamer

The next day was spent in quietness, skipping breakfast and hiding. You both lazed in bed, getting up as late as possible, covering your heads with sheets and arms in a halfhearted attempt to keep the sunlight away. Kylo was the first one to give in, rising to use the restroom, you taking the opportunity to distend your limbs across the immense mattress that almost conveyed the inverse impression when the somnolent mammoth lay on it. You heard the toilet flush but he didn't come out immediately, having found him untangling that messy licorice-colored bedhead of his in front of the vanity mirror, in all his buck naked glory, toothbrush in his mouth. You peed in drowsy silence and regarded him as he washed his face. He watched you wipe yourself and rinse your hands and eyes, then laying a meager glob of toothpaste over the fibers of your own toothbrush, his prosaic periorbital puffiness and tea rose orange-toned, transcendent morning-swollen lips making him look younger. Surprisingly not cherubic - there was always something licentious about him, whether clothes were donned or not. And among those characteristics of his nature that you could name, the indomitable aristocracy of his physiognomy, the omnipotent brawniness of his temperament, the capriciousness _faux pas_ of his ipseity, all stirred and merged becoming one personage, still... there was that magnetic _je ne sais quois_ that pulled your animalism, your obsession, your devoutness and your air out of you. And more: feelings you didn't want to allow, feelings you didn't want to accept. Because what good would it do?

Drawing fabric over skin, Kylo headed out to explore and hopefully find food that would appeal to him - the bedroom should double as your dinning room. In the meantime, gratifying solitariness was to be savored. Or not, a low, rhythmic knock on the front door robbing you of peace and nakedness, flooding your throat with anxiety as you pulled free flowing shirt dress over body, measured mousy motions on the way to the enclosure's exposing eyelet. You peeped. And reluctantly opened the door.

"Hi!"

There was that contagious smile.

"Hey!"

"Are you okay? You didn't come down for breakfast..."

"Yeah, there's so much socializing I can do. And this hotel is huge... Lot of people," the last part whispered, as if anyone could hear it and take offense.

Both heads nodded in an unspoken affinity.

"Can I come in?", you blinked a couple of times up at him, oddly unsure - in a way, you felt that wasn't your room, but Ren's, like it wasn't for you to decide, yet he continued, "I know he's not in. I heard him going out. The door, the footsteps," Matt's heterochromic eyes fell on the plunging neckline of the sheer cotton gauze hi-lo covering, but quickly returned to your features, watching you taking a long step back and to the right as he walked into the chamber.

"Sorry about the mmm-nevermind."

"What were you gonna say?"

"'Sorry about the mess', but it's stupid to say that. That's a weird social norm isn't it? When someone has visitors and even if their house or whatever is all tidy up, people just feel the need to apologize for some reason? As if it would actually ever be cleaner than that..."

"I guess. Not everyone says it though."

"Hmm. Perhaps those who have it all under control. Or those who don't care."

"You don't care," he sentenced, sitting sideways on one of the slipper chairs, leaning back and crossing left leg over right at the ankle.

"I... do..."

"But you don't."

Complexities.

You attempted to straighten the bed with the least amount of visible effort possible and then climbed on it, sitting with your members dangling from the high mattress, feet touching, regrettably aware of the transparency the clarity coming through all surrounding ceiling-to-floor windows was displaying to your friend.

"So... Leona, huh? You didn't tell me you were dating!"

"That's because I'm not," his clean-shaven chin dipped and eyebrows rose, "just thought perhaps I should have someone come with me this time."

"You didn't sleep with her the night she stayed?"

"No... my bedroom has two beds. Didn't want my mom to keep asking me when the hell am I getting someone, like it's as easy as a trip to the store, going there and ask for _this_ many pounds of soulmate," he gestured, emphasizing the mass measurements.

"But... wouldn't she know there's two beds in your room?"

"Nah, she just pays for it, it's her assistant who takes care of reservations, so I talked to her and asked to choose the rooms."

"So you chose this room?"

Matt slowly nodded, suddenly timorous regarding what you could be getting at.

"Thannnk you. It's a very nice room, I like it."

His left shoulder shrugged in dismissal.

"So why Leona specifically?"

"She was the only person I asked? I don't know. I've known her for a while, she's... kind of a friend at work, seems not to be the intrusive type. And she's tall."

"Excuse you, got something against not-so-tall people?", feigning indignation, fists propped on your waist.

He chuckled.

"No, thought about being the brother with the tall date."

"So you wanna be different?" He simply pointed at his own deranged hair, highlighting the obvious discrepancy between him and his siblings. "Well, seems like you put an awful lot of thought into this selection process," you scoffed, "ever thought about going on an actual date with her?"

"No, she's not my type."

"She's not your ' _type_ '... Never took you for a dude with a ' _type_ '."

"You might think too highly of me," squinting sideways, he simpered, uncrossing his legs and letting his knees part widely as his stance perked up.

Impulsively, you hummed in both acknowledgement and deliberation. The blonde giant got up, turning his back on you and facing the vista, hands shoved in his chinos' pockets, feet apart at shoulders width. Then he stepped outside, got close to the railing and placed his forearms on it, you imitated him on a much smaller scale. After a short silence, you got over your reluctance.

"How have you been doing?" 

You meant far more than the customary meaning and he knew it. Still, he misinformed you in what mattered.

"Been alright. Feel like my job is too... much. But that's kinda good to keep my mind busy. And I like what I do. Sorta," Matt sucked his lips into his mouth and pressed on them.

"Why do you always wear khakis?"

He stared at you, supraorbital ridge crinkled in confoundment.

"Wha-I-... I didn't wear them yesterday!"

"We were at the beach yesterday! It would have been a little weird if you wore khakis at the beach. We're still basically at the beach," you gestured to the coast line right in front of you, "I think I've only seen you in shorts like... five times, since I met you. What's up with that, office boy?"

"What?! That's ridiculous! You've seen me in jeans! I wear jeans! I wear jeans."

You laughed at the episode, Matt's expression melting with it.

"I'm messing with you...", your right shoulder bumped merrily into his upper arm. "What have you been doing, apart from the sci-fi screenings?"

"Ohhh, you should watch! Ah-part fffrom thaaat," he dallied and dragged his words, struggling to recall what he had been distracting himself with in the infrequent downtime, "not much... Hmm, I do get to read on airplanes."

"How about your days off? Thought you had a bit more free time now."

"I do! I did... I have to stop offering myself for extra hours..."

"Do you not want to be at home? Is that it?"

The fair-haired man remained quiet, fingernails picking at the skin by the base of his digits on his palms. You twisted on your side and met him, speaking in a flat, tender tone.

"Matty... you can stop by, you know? And talk. You know I enjoy being alone, but... you can text me and come by my place if you need to. I care about you. I care about your well-being."

Affectionately, you smoothed the shagginess of his Jasmine-hued curls, stroking in gentle gestures, his eyes closing for two-sixtieths of a minute, laryngeal prominence jouncing, he turned to you obliquely against the handrail... then everything stopped, except the sonority of the splashing surf. 

There was this... ache, this famine and misery across his face, that disagreed with the salacious incandescence in the vibrant blend of browns of his eyes. You could see there was something he wanted to tell you. Then it shifted into a visual conflict with words, undeniably thoughts as well, gaze descending along you, however not truly directed at you, vestibule being bitten internally, precipitated breaths. His fidgeting was generating anxiety in you and, as collectedly as possible, you took his large hands in your own.

"Matty..."

"Would you be interested in taking walks with me? Sometimes? We can do it in Prospect Park. Sometimes I do that, coming from the library, when I don't want to go back home right away... If you're up for that! I can stop by your house too, I mean... but-"

"Don't you think it's too cold now for walks in the park...?"

"Well, but that's why it's better! Instead of the four-hundred thousand people that tend to be there, you only see thirty-five thousand!"

"Did you just... did math my way?"

"Yes, exaggerated and random. I'm trying to get something here."

"What is that?"

"Trying to get you out of the house."

"I have been going out! Look! I'm out right now," arms spread outwards, taking a step back.

"You're hiding in a room in another State, that's hardly ' _out_ '."

"Okay, but I could've not come here at all..."

"Alright, I'll give you that. But I know you don't appreciate feeling like an icicle and you knew Florida was warm... so no, I'm not giving you that one."

"My house has man-made heating that mimics this! If you know I don't like being frozen why are you inviting me for these walks in Antarctica?"

"Because it's pretty out there!"

"Are you insinuating my studio isn't pretty?"

"I am not saying that. Your place is pretty. I just thought it would be prettier outside, in the midst of nature and stuff."

"I don't want my place to be ' _pretty_ '."

"Why not?"

"Because 'pretty' is subjective and your definition might not be mine."

"My definition might not be yours, but it might be y-"

Matt's whole jawline expanded with the strength he applied to his masseters to stop himself from spilling the beans.

"Uh... I'll see you later," his feet started leading him towards the door, you automatically chasing him.

"Matt."

"It's okay. I'm fine. Are you alright?"

Perplexed, you shook your head in an ineffective shot at making clear sense of what had happened and how he was reacting and what he was asking you.

"Uh... yeah, I'm fine..."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

He suddenly whirled to you and pecked your forehead prior to departing precipitously, leaving you befuddled and stumped in the middle of the bedchamber. And as if the Moirai were watching, your mobile vibrated atop the bedside table. 

_"Cuban food. Jupina, any jarrito or water?"_

You typed your answer and sent it, sitting back on the mattress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's visuals:  
> Reader's covering/shirt dress: [here](http://tinyurl.com/z3q4x22) (and a [closeup of the fabric in mind](http://tinyurl.com/zhqjz9c) cause details are life)  
> (Realized I forgot to offer the room's visuals before, but [this is the room](http://tinyurl.com/jjrx4b7) and therefore...)  
> Room's slipper chairs: [lookie!](http://tinyurl.com/htn6354)  
> Matt's clothes: [chinos](http://tinyurl.com/zwvq6cq) and since we're at it, [sweater](http://tinyurl.com/zfcjrp3)  
> Drinks mentioned: [Jupina](http://tinyurl.com/js34etm) (pineapple soda, if you can't tell) and [jarritos](http://tinyurl.com/hr8a6or) (yet more soda)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	34. Coterie

You fished the novel you had brought with you to read on the plane from your small suitcase and opened the balcony door, sun and surf current imbruing your senses preceding you return to the niveous turf, body landing weightily on the broad bed, puissant paws wielding it like a paragon of commodity, property, modeling you in the optimal angled manner to nestle his head on the groove created between lowersection and midsection and breasts, while he cleaned up his inbox and browsed, and you opened the marked page of _Crime and Punishment_.

Felt like a Summer day, albeit indoors, tide crashing many levels below, the briny dimethyl sulfide sea scent, warm waft settling in the room and the partial page lifting before finishing and fully turning it. That and the occasional itch begging to be scratched just for a second, mindlessly being relieved. A couple of hours must have passed before you peeked at Kylo from your paperback, noticing he had discontinued the use of his phone, having deposited it at his side and plainly reposing on you, eyes listlessly shut, able arms loosely propped on his abdomen, as if he slept. You pinpointed the progression on your book and set it down by the silky, floral-white pillow, watching him: voluminous mane widespread over your flank, tickling as you respired, chapped, ridged lips of the poutiest of the mouths, limning a sulking, sorrowful kid, which he was, relaxing lids with a teensy fold - that was coming with age, you remembered when that crease wasn't there at all whenever he closed his eyes - and a golden glow under the fading tinge of threatening sunburn across his Roman nose and subtle cheeks, his embossed scar a couple of shades darker than its usual. Motionlessly, he gathered the habitual inundation of saliva in his mouth and swallowed, a drowned, little and low click coming from that spot between the back of his throat and the back of his nose, actually caused when air dislocated with a slight movement from the back of the tongue... nasopharynx resonance. Your fingers submerged in the inky ocean of obsidian waves, pads and nails pressing and dragging on his scalp in slow motion, a deep inhale from the prodigious male and a cut-off suspired whimper of indulgence escaping his voice box.

A quick smile flashed through your countenance. Right then you felt lucky - your depression and despair perpetually present, but right at _that_ moment they were simply playing in the background, like an agonizing, penetrating oboe and a visceral accordion, as if the specters of two lovers tangoed through perpetuity in a massive, echoing hall, cheerful in its sadness, an absurd dissonance out of the many others that composed your spiritual singularity. Ah yes, you felt lucky, with the warmth of his body on yours.

Barely moving his eyes, Kylo glimpsed through the eyelashes on his portside and moved from your torso up to the pillow touching yours, hauling your frame along and embracing you, dextral arm fitting under your neck like Lego blocks, two pairs of legs intertwining. He sighed intensely upon finding the perfect position, strong pulses going throughout the both of you.

"You smell nice," he spoke into your hair after a while.

"I didn't shower last night."

"Mmm... That's why... You smell like you."

You had yet to find someone who matched you as much as he did. His scent, his _real_ scent, was inebriating to you - the earthy conglomeration of oakmoss and labdanum that constituted the odor of his scalp, the acerbic saliferous musk smell of his sweat, the very vague, almost creamy, dull essence of his hands, the active acrid aroma that steamed from his genitalia, his protein, peptide and amino acid byproduct balmy breath, the unequivocal, unmistakable chemical composition that not only made him a human, but the exact configuration of the elemental construction that made him Kylo Ren. You loved it all, calming at times, enticing on others, but always comforting, always safe.

"Don't shower tonight either. Only wash these," he gently prodded your holes with the tips of his left hand's digits.

Momentarily pulling away from you, he licked his fingerpads and repositioned the same hand back on the cleft of your ass, lightly smearing his spit on your tightest orifice, almost abstractedly. You leaned your head back far enough to observe the dozy Colossus. Then brought the very tip of your middle digit in contact with his face, beginning a strikingly slow pattern of caressing every millimeter of skin, every pore and every bristle on his visage, employing the most delicate of the touches, his eyelids torpidly heavy to split open.

"Hmm... No... You'll put me to sleep."

"Good... You need a nap," you murmured, persisting with your soothing sorcery.

"No... Stop i-oh, scratch right there," he solicited your aid in a sudden tingling twitch as you glided your extremity over his upper lip, your nail scraping the blooming hairs on the left corner of his mouth, the satisfying sound of beard grinding generating goosebumps, "Mmm, -t's good... don wanna ssslee..."

"Shhh..."

His monumental anatomy ultimately sagged into the mattress, you sculpting yourself around and into him, beholding his facial traits up-close, scanning the staggering structure of the semblance's surface, interminably and indomitably infatuated with the template of texture and tint. So close you couldn't restrain yourself from treasuring the palpebral millium on his left eye, as if indicating the exact spot where the inner third of his opening should end, or begin; upper feathery eyelashes set on lower ones, tranquilly; the tussocks of supercilium on the protruding brow ridge, scanty as they marked their path outwards; the tiny beauty mark by his nose - he had so many incredible ones, but in that moment you were fixated on a specific Kobicha-hued mole, that practically hid in the penumbra of his eastern alar facial groove. That one.  
It was so quiet.

 

*

 

The following day, he ravished you like a wild animal loaded with testosterone and fighting for his life. And so you had to wrap the scarf you had taken to wear upon landing in the cold Empire State around your neck in the far-too-warm-for-Winter Florida, as well as sporting one of the long sleeve knits taken with the exact same purpose when Ben and his little family decided to be helpful and drop you, Kylo and Matt at the airport for the flight back you three would be on. The remaining brother had taken a few extra days off from work and would be driving his way back up the country to Massachusetts.

As soon as the youngest triplet parked, the twins jumped out of their forward-facing car seats after you helped them unbuckle their harnesses from your centered position in between the both of them, Cari impatiently struggling, but thanking you once she was freed. Aric had waited imperturbably for his turn, studious of your fingers and where they pressed and what they pulled, then blinking up at you with the most darling, sullen expression, stealing a genuine smile from your lips, himself coyly grinning in return. Everyone walked together from the parking complex to the departure area, since the kids wanted to see the inside of the airport and say their goodbyes there, Matt getting down on his knees to hug and kiss his nephew and niece, your Master standing, resisting at first, but caving in and crouching to let them embrace and smooch him, clamorous pitches of Uncle Matts and Uncle Kys thrown around. 

"Alright, you punks! They have to go!", Ben warned the children, hoping they would conclude their babbling.

"Uncle, were you theriouth about camping?", Cari excitedly tugged on the blonde's independence blue-toned V-neck t-shirt.

"Yeah, but not anytime soon! It's too cold! You would turn into a popsicle! Brrr!", he emphasized his words, squeezing his niece's arms against her body, eyebrows shooting up at the little human metaphorical block of ice, who parroted the sound, chortling.

"Kids! I am not joking!", Ben smacked Kylo's shoulder blade as they enveloped each other sideways.

Aric stretched upwards to you, his little face following the action so he could kiss you as you lowered to his level. He dipped his young fist in his jeans' right front pocket, and in between his fingers was the elastic you had used to put his jet black, thick locks up at the beach, his mouth approaching your left ear and a soft whisper of appreciation was delivered.

"Keep it," you susurrated in return, "it's Uncle Ky's and he has a lot of them." 

The boy smiled and you winked at him. Desiree hugged you and the girl full on yanked your arm, pecking the corner of your mouth before her father hauled her up and licked his lips, kissing your right cheek with his own mouth open, leaving the whole side unnecessarily wet, gaining a protest and a smack on the forearm still lingering on you. Grabbing your bags, the three of you started walking towards the TSA security screening lines.

"Bye, Auntie!", Cari yelled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can write an epic poem to each and every single microscopic spot on that man's body. I had to restrain myself.  
> The kids are not alright. "The kids" are my neurons and synapses. Not Cari and Aric, who live there. Those are alright.
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	35. Incommunicado

You didn't know how long you've been there, sitting on your Prussian blue linen tuxedo couch, solid Tyrian purple microplush blanket tightly swaddling your body like a fucking millennial burrito, staring at your laptop propped on an empty foreign designer shoe box that you can't remember how you got, since those shoes would be far too expensive for you to ever get, nineteen tabs of research and options open on your browser, taking too much RAM and tiring your CPU, the wording document you were supposedly working on just sitting there as if calling out to you, perhaps even shouting at you, but you couldn't hear it.

Know what you could hear though? The old alarm-clock that didn't go off anymore, but it sure did tick away; the cars driving by on the road, splashing puddles that spawned due to a light rain falling all afternoon long, not quite loud enough to be pleasantly eavesdropped on; someone outside hammering a _façade_ , steady and incessant, annoying. All of these sounds weren't exactly headache-inducing that time. They were... desensitizing, causing you to lose all train of thought. Had a good bout nevertheless: four straight hours of dedicated diligence, rushing, raw lexemes, your weird way with words wearisome to rationalize and reveal to others... A low chuckle escaped you.

You leaned your head back as much as it could go and your vertebrae cracked into place, shoulders rolling backwards, body tired from prolongedly perching in the pacific posture. The gloomy weather was making you drowsy. But you had to pee. Unraveling yourself from the straightjacket of a throw you had managed to securely shape shelter in, four limbs plus torso straining as you lay atop the cuddling collection of cushions along the sofa, causing you to get lightheaded and having to remain motionless for a moment more while recovering.

More neighborhood noise.

You were going insane.

"Aaugh!", you rolled in your spot and crawled over the couch's arm, steadying on hands and knees across the floor and dawdling your form around the TV wall, past the bed and dresser and into the restroom.

The landline rang.

"NO!", you angrily yelled from the commode, then covering your face with your hands, whining, "why do I even have that thing...?"

As if hiding from it, you only abandoned the confinements of your bathroom once the phone had ceased its offensive, obstreperous outburst, glancing then to the cell phone resting on the coffee table and seeing its insufferable blinking light, which caused this disparity in restlessness - wanting to ignore it but being unable to, unlocking the screen simply to repel the notifications. In essence, concerned to inspect only to disregard. Yet, you just couldn't bring yourself to merely unsubscribe from the excessiveness of websites and blogs. Your own actions and inactions enraged you.

Four clicks on your laptop and a shuffled playlist boomed from the speakers, volume gone up and resolution taking you to the pantry to check if you had extra chicken stock. You did. Opening the counter's door as you bent in half, the anodized aluminium stockpot was drawn and set on your stove, the remaining leftover broth in your fridge mixing with the newly opened pack and two cans of coconut milk, while you pulled the medium-sized bamboo cutting board from the three piece set and quickly chopped some oyster mushrooms, lemongrass and scallions, throwing them in with scraps of _shiitake_ you were keeping precisely with the intent of making _Tom Kha Gai_. You sang along with the music, dancing on your path to one of the windows throughout the soup's simmer, back and forth between the outdoor's nebulous display and the occasional wooden spoon stir, attempting to institute homogeneity and disperse temperature, dropping a few pieces of cooked poultry from the previous night's dinner and adding lime juice, _shoyu_ and ginger for seasoning. Your place smelled great.

Once the soup was perfected to your taste buds, you turned off the flame and allowed it to boil down in the residual heat, mindlessly picking one of the weathered, nevertheless lustrous, durable ceramic bowls that made you feel like you were at your grandma's kitchen again, daily domestic details purposely planted to insure your inmost imperturbability. Organized chaos. Filling the rounded, deep dish with the blazing concoction formulated, you deposited it onto your dark walnut and cast iron dining table to cool down, skipping as you reversed to the computer and interrupting the current song to double-click on a totally different genre, returning to the kitchen in a more controlled pace, figmental episodes developing in your imagination, marvelous and monstrous, mesmerizing, perfunctory hauling the mismatched bow-back Windsor armchair from its neat spot under the table to the industrial window, where you sat cradling your _bouillon_ , feet propped on the wall brick ledge, watching the darkening skies.

 

*

 

He had been staring outside for a while, liberally sprawled on his couch, asking himself how much did he actually need to go grocery shopping. The climate became increasingly worse as the sun set and he was consenting sloth to take over him, no classes to teach that day, regretting not having gone to the store earlier. Kylo sighed deeply, groaning as he dragged his bulky, floppy mass from the furniture and checked his fridge, appraising to what degree of sadness would his dinner get to. Leftover mushroom garlic quinoa from four meals ago, not sad at all. He had numerous food choices on his block, towards the main street... but putting on clothes seemed like too mighty of a chore to accomplish right then. He would have to worry about the lack of food the next time, even though the weather forecast predicted yet another rainy, windy and possibly snowy day. Winter was a detestable season. Contrary to what one might deduct from his overall character, demeanor and fashion, he was not fond of the cold at all - rain was fine, but he preferred the warmth of a sunny day, by far. He was always particularly grumpy, extra volatile when brisk and his grimace permanently displayed throughout the chilly months.

Throwing the small container into the microwave, he set it and braced his weight on the heels of his paws against the slate countertop, inattentively staring at it slowly spinning around, absorbed by the thought that he should have dumped the food in a plate prior to reheating it, because of dioxins and plasticizers, dismissing his own overreacting deliberations only when the strident signal slapped him back to reality.

Grabbing a fork, he strode to the living room, breathing in the delectable aroma as he passed by the window and paused.

" _Yeah, sniff all those chemicals right up into your brain, dumbass!_ "

The colossal man couldn't help a tamed sigh from blowing out of his nostrils, figuratively scoffing himself and belittling the part of him that scoffed - ridicule raised at the power of two. Gazing out the aperture ahead, he contemplated the sky and its Stygian clouds, still enough brightness outdoors to distinguish open air from masses of condensed water vapor floating in the atmosphere, the dimmed and fused eggplant-Viridian circles on his lassitudinous orbits a persistent mark for the past few days. His silverware sunk in the steaming proteinic pseudocereal-fungus medley and directed some of it into the humid oral habitat as the nutant eyelids conducted his intentness towards the closest buildings, the apartments across the street, some with the lights already on. By the fourth bite, he pulled from the _fenestra_ , plopped down on the _chaise_ sectional and retracted his legs in _agura_ , full apricot mouth ruminating, slanted hazel orbs targeting the flung mobile by his side, right hand's middle digit inputting the code to unlock the screen and typing a new message, while tucking the fork under his pointer.

When the reply buzzed on the seat next to the lounging leviathan, he repeated the gesture, tapping on the only notification he cared to attend to, reading and responding.

Kylo's unpretentious lopsided smile flourished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just notice my characters pee a lot. -shrugs- Also, have yourself two more recipes. And there's a lot of silence, because there are very few things I value more.
> 
> This chapter's visuals, yo (there's a lot, I AM SORRY):  
> Reader's couch (not sure I showed it before): [here](http://tinyurl.com/ztvuywa) except in [this color and material](http://tinyurl.com/zn3l6yf)  
> Reader's kitchen (get ready for all kinds of changes...): [this rough display](http://tinyurl.com/h6acz3l) minus the wall cabinets, fridge (which is [this one instead](http://tinyurl.com/hrb83vm), [open visual for general space idea](http://tinyurl.com/jdquzsh)); there's no island either since there's a dining table right there and the wall is the brick wall that lines up all of Reader's apartment. Oh, and there's no window by the sink, ceiling is higher.  
> Reader's dining table: [here](http://tinyurl.com/jqkf3x4)  
> Reader's Windsor armchair: [here](http://tinyurl.com/gtvxrzu) (and since we're at it, the other chairs: [this one](http://tinyurl.com/z5qqxrh) but in [this color and material](http://tinyurl.com/h3vf7b3), [one of these](http://tinyurl.com/jmnjc9f) and [the purple in the back](http://tinyurl.com/jjtolu9) (I know, looks brown...), although the wood should be the dark one shared by all other chairs  
> Ren's fridge (and other appliances): [here](http://tinyurl.com/jbd624w)  
> Ren's kitchen: [here](http://tinyurl.com/hozznc7), except no dining room in the back (since there's a wall there that separates his apartment from the building's hall), no sink or appliances on the island facing left (because there is where his dining table and chairs are) and no window by the sink (because that's the wall that separates the kitchen from the service bathroom). The angle from which the picture is taken indicates the window placement.
> 
> Sorry if you're confused. Do you hate me now? I hate myself, it's okay if you do too.
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)  
> [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	36. Chronic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what this is. Came to me today and had to be posted today. High five, endo sisters!

It was a minor discomfort at first. You woke up bloated, an urgency to use the restroom, third day of period and you knew that would be it.

More than half the morning had flown by as you slept and you weren't exactly somnolent anymore, yet felt dead inside. Not the daily kind of dead you tended to feel, nor the excruciating reality checks that reality wasn't indeed real, the world nothing but an illusion, a play, and solid matter isn't even chemically true - tangibility is not a thing! No. The kind of dead that makes you unable to pretend to be happy and hyper and put on a face and an act for the naive and innocent ones, the ones whom aren't quite ready nor at the age to get such a hard and grounding contact with your wretchedness.

If they were yours, they would have to though.

If they were yours, they would be different.

You readied yourself, laptop on, putting on some music in hopes it could somehow change your mood, forcing yourself to get brunch - a deliciously sizable piece of asparagus and spinach quiche. As you nibbled on it, a couple of emails were answered and you messaged your mother, skyping with her for the duration of your meal. You had set your plate in the sink when it punched you in the gut, incapacitating, acute stab up your rectum and through your womb, urging you to bend in half and groan, dragging feet to the bathroom and swallowing the maximum dose of pain killers you safely could, returning to the kitchen table and carefully sitting on your chair, fists closed on the armrests, the eruption washing you in a full, long lasting wave, contracting uterus lined with sharp knives, rear feeling as if it had been mercilessly impaled. Rocking back and forth, your gasps were labored: expeditious, loud, and unfaltering, as if you were completely unaware of how to accordingly breathe through pain. However, the anxious, accelerated respiration was working in keeping you under control. 

Sort of. 

The hyperventilation was lowering the level of carbon dioxide in your system, which reduced blood flow to the brain. Meaning, you were able to not scream in agony, because you were about to faint. Tense middle and lower body, hands holding onto the recliner like your life depended on it, you shook your head, restless eyes scanning everything surrounding you but not actually centering on anything, eyelids forced open when you felt syncope was imminent.

It must have been three minutes of unwavering torture. Three minutes that resembled ten, when the meds kicked in and started alleviating that burden, breaths reverting to proper performance, cramps becoming manageable to your high pain tolerant self. 

Head leaned back, you cracked your cervical spine - maybe it was either the annoying C4 or C5 vertebra that always made itself heard when you underwent stress. When did you not, really? With your eyes closed, a rooted, calming breath filled and emptied your lungs, taking yet another speck of a moment down the drain of your life with it. Dramatic.

Unconsciously staring at your phone, a smile flashed quicker than lightening on your lips, followed by a resigned suspire, pining over something you wished wouldn't bring juvenile tears along.

"For fuck's sake..."

Sinking scratching nails to the occipital scalp, you got up and switched seats, propping yourself as straight as one could on the lust-colored, polyester upholstered chair, pulling your computer towards you and reading the last paragraph you had written the previous evening, deciding to start a whole new chapter of bullshit before having to take time and numbly type an interesting and informative article on the latest city life appropriate electric automobile that would become publicly available the following year. Ah, the need of a paycheck! The planet would never become the Utopia you have always dreamed of as a kid.

With this, another quarter of a day had gone by, work saved and an hour-long message typed and sent to a new, dear friend, and an inquisitive text of Matt's addressed with a late reply, to which he responded with the intended call.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Hi, I texted you like three hours ago!"

"Was it a time-sensitive matter?"

"No, I know better."

"That's why I like you, you know I'm not to be counted on."

"Hahah, yeah...", your jumbo, fair-haired friend let it trail off.

"... Alright, so what do y'wanna talk to me about?"

"Uh... Just wondering how y'doin'."

"I'm suffering."

"Isn't that your... regular setting?"

"Heh, yes. Yes, it is! How are ya?"

"I'm good, was in the neighborhood."

"Are you still around?"

"... Yeah..."

There was an evaluating silence from both sides of the line, nervous lip biting equally from both sides. This was why you hated talking on the phone, you intellectualized and resolved everything better with your fingers than with your voice. 

"You can drop by if you're not busy."

"Oh! Uh, I-hm, I wa-okay!"

"Yeah? Alright, see you in a bit!"

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

You looked throughout, inspecting your place, closed your laptop and added sweatpants to your scantily clad figure in a men's t-shirt that barely worked as a makeshift dress, placed the previously sink-ridden plate in the washing machine and glanced to the mirror only to see the necessity of a haircut more and more evident. Though that would not happen. A short time after, the vestibule buzzer was demanding your attention, surprise taking over your traits as your hands automatically allowed him in and unlocked the front door. With furrowed brows, you awkwardly and continually paced by the entrance, the flush-faceted man entering your studio with a bag in one of his hands and nudging the door shut, large, close-lipped smile waning as he saw you.

"What's wrong?"

"Where were you?"

"... Around. I didn't take _that_ long."

"Exactly. Where were you when you called me?"

"Aaat the paaarrrk."

"What park? This park?", you casually mispointed a random direction with your thumb, wrist facing upwards.

"Yyyeeeaaah."

"Were you busy?", you studied him, in his regular office dude attire, wearing a button up shirt.

"No, I was just... on my phone and stuff."

"For how long?"

Now it was him who wrinkled his eyebrows in simultaneous thought and apprehension, as if he had done something bad.

"... since I texted you three hours ago?"

You sighed, looking towards the ceiling.

"Why didn't you call me then, instead of texting?"

"Because I know you hate surprise phone calls."

"But it was a time-sensitive matter then!"

"No, it wasn't, it's not like I had things to do or places to go to."

"But you stood there waiting for three fucking hours, Matt! What the hell? Now I'm feeling guilty of being such a horrible person and making you wait for that long!"

"I'm sorry."

"No! _I'm_ the one who's sorry! I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"Shut up and let me be sorry!"

You strode to him, your limbs encircling his frame, hugging his stomach.

"Okay...", he let you embrace him and placed his free hand on the small of your back, right hand away from his body as he still carried the plastic sack. Slumping his focal point, he waited for your chin to rise as you felt him move, your eyes on the spectacles, his lips twitching in a hardly contained grin, "are you sorry enough?"

"I guess so, thank you."

Pulling away, you let him remove his shoes with the aid of his heels and marched to your table as he set the bag and its contents down on it.

"I brought _gyōza_. Because I could smell them when I passed by their door and... they were being made right there. And I was hungry."

"Seriously, why would you even need to explain?"

"I don't know. Maybe because I brought a shit ton of them."

He had indeed. You were already plotting in your head, words spilling from your mouth:

"Do you have things to do tonight?" 

"Nope!"

"Good, 'cause we're eating all thirty-something dumplings and we're about to get sick."

"That's a great fucking plan."

"Let's do this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visuals:  
> Quiche: [here](http://tinyurl.com/jvygchn)  
> Gyōza: [here](http://tinyurl.com/zf4purw)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)  
> [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	37. Sentience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to be this long, was written a month ago but I was editing it and suddenly a chapter within a chapter was born! Also, lazy writing.  
> TW: Mighty abuse of Italics for texts and a huge trip down memory lane. You will hate my existence.

_"Awake?"_

Was all you read after you woke with the loud vibrating sound of your phone against the hardwood flooring, having slid from your low bed onto the ground, digital clock mocking you as it displayed three fifty-six in the morning. You had just fallen asleep.

 _"Mhm"_ , was your reply.

Kylo was away, having gone to an _aikidō_ tournament in Tokyo, and staying in Shirakawa for about three more weeks to further his learning with a master who had agreed on mentoring him for a month, upon seeing his performance during the finals. He had left two weeks ago.

_"Think you'd like it here. This village is invigorating."_

Did he text you at four A.M. just to say the Japanese countryside was beautiful? Was this his way of saying he missed you? And yet, you entertained.

_"Yeah? Tell me more."_

His next text took a couple of minutes to arrive, your dozing off interrupted when the buzzing spread throughout your mattress, hands finding the cell in the dark, your eyes pressing shut tightly before squinting so hard at the already low screen light you swore something would snap inside your skull. Inserting your password, your digits felt for the starry lights switch and activated it, warm glowing speckles making everything easier.

Kylo had sent you a picture of what you assumed was his view - the sun was setting in an orange burnt sky, a couple of enormous, stripped and pruned Japanese maple trees adorned the painting, a large expanse of flat dirt grounds cornered with whimsical snow where an old lady with a bandanna covering her hair was kneeled, doing something in the far left, a well and two mats next to it closer to the right. Accompanied by a message.

_"It's 6:12 PM here. Quiet. Very early in the morning I can hear Osa-san, the old lady, shuffling through the kitchenware, preparing breakfast. She takes care of the whole place, even though she just turned 80."_

A second picture appeared as you were reading, this one of a child playing with a dog in a different angle also outdoors.

_"This is Yukino-chan, her great-granddaughter, and the dog is a stray they feed and call Tamotsu. She's three-years-old and apparently has never seen anyone as tall as I am. Keeps trying to climb my back when I sit and grandma isn't around, and likes to have lunch with her doll next to me. Also, she seems to hate the number 18 because she keeps skipping it when she counts."_

You truly wished you were there. The idea of seeing such a huge, mopey creature like him interact with an innocent, bright-eyed, laughing toddler heated your chest. You had seen him with Ben's kids, but Kylo is very uncomfortable and always afraid to hurt them, plus he seems to never be quite sure of what to say to children. And their livelihood scares him. Or did. You wondered how he was dealing with this little girl.

_"She isn't afraid of you?"_

You really wanted to ask if _he_ wasn't afraid of _her_.

_"During the first four days she was. Not sure if afraid or suspicious. Or both. Now she wants to literally braid my hair. Like you."_

A smile erupted on your lips, rereading the last couple of sentences, your heartbeat reaching the back of your head, cheeks warming up.

_"Do you let her?"_

_"No. Not yet. Whenever she wants to, I have things to do. She's small and wouldn't be done with it quickly."_ Before you could answer, another text came in. _"I know, I'm an asshole."_

_"Not at all. You did say 'not yet', which means you're open to a three-year-old hairstyling techniques. That makes you the opposite of an asshole."_

_"Still doesn't redeem me."_

_"You don't need redemption."_

After that you thought he had ended the conversation. Truth be told, he had never texted you for that long, nor had he ever sent you any images. Besides, he came through so relaxed, unguarded. Maybe it was the different country or the training. Maybe it was the little kid who kept knocking at his heart's door. More likely a combination of everything.  
You got up and used the bathroom, shivering your way to the kitchen and pouring yourself a glass of orange juice, tip-toeing quickly back to the large, comfortable bed, clearing your e-mails when Kylo texted you.

_"Come back to my classes."_

_"I have no funds to invest in a gym membership anymore. Besides, your classes have people, yuck!"_

_"I can train you at home for free."_

_"Why would you do that?"_

_"Don't be difficult. I know very well how much you miss training. And you could pay me with sex."_

_"If sex is our currency, I should be entitled to six years of free lessons already."_

_"Very funny. Not doing the conversion right. We started fucking 4 years ago on Halloween."_

_"Didn't know you remembered that,"_ you wormed out.

_"No, I would forget about almost being ran over by that bitch in the fucking Prius. Stupid kids. But I got good memories out of it as well... You were unbelievably tight."_

_"So I'm not anymore?"_

_"You still are. But I hadn't had sex in a long while and that first time in the basement was like gulping air after almost drowning."_

Your ears were ringing from the deafening silence surrounding you. Your left forearm ached for no reason whatsoever. Your vision blurred at the corners. Suddenly you were blinking in rapid fire, trying to will the lightheadedness away, thinking how much of an exaggerated reaction your system was having. And worried about taking too long to answer, almost afraid he would come down to his senses and see what he wrote and sent you. Furrowing brows and angled eyes helped you focus on the digital keyboard and made your thumbs type:

_"Hitting the sake hard, Ren?"_

The response came after a meditative moment, short and grounding. _"Bitch."_ Then the promise. _"You need to be put in your place. In less than a month I'm going to be there, shoving that face into the bed and fucking your ass open. And you're not going to cum for a long, long time."_

 _"Mmm, what else, Master Ren?"_ For a split second you wondered if you were pushing it. But seeing him typing assured you of otherwise.

_"Going to leave your flesh raw from the amount of spanking that is coming your way. Then I'll shower your broken skin in piss. And you'll be a good slut and suck my dick after, won't you?"_

_"Of course, Master Ren. Anything to please you, Sir. Anything you wish."_

_"Do not touch yourself. Only I make you cum."_

_"I wouldn't dream of it, Sir! But it will be hard, I'm always so wet for you, Master Ren..."_

He paused for a few minutes. Felt like eternity, before the next words.

_"Oh yeah? Is it only for me or for any other man who treats you like the whore you are?"_

_"Just for you, Master Ren. You own me."_

Kylo shuddered from across the ocean.

The idea of you being only his, at his service, was simply too good. He always wondered if you fucked other people - your oral contract had never been prohibitive of such, yet he felt he knew you well enough to hope you were only his. Was it unfair to you? Perhaps. He did sleep with others, though rarely. And it was never like how it was with you. He didn't dominate them, tried not to hurt them, he didn't perform even half the things he did with you, he wore a condom.

You were different, extraordinary. And he felt needed. Understood. Unashamed.

Kylo didn't want to lose you, the constant person he found by chance at the gym. The one who never questioned his way of acting, of carrying himself, of dressing, nor his beliefs. And when the progression to sex was made two firm years after you met, it felt natural and right. At first he was unsure, scared of freaking you out with what he wanted to do to you. But when he at last saw that the connection you two had was more than personality traits that aligned and vanilla sex, after he told you, over dinner at your place, what he would like to try with you and you reacted so well, welcomed everything and divulged more about yourself, he knew he had found his pet. Everything was discussed, quite forthrightly and calculatedly - what you were both open to do, to try, your soft limits, your hard limits, your safe words.

And now, sharing his intimacy with you, his fetishes, his sleepless nights, his low and lower moments, he still fought what he knew was inside of him. Because he couldn't totally comprehend how someone could accept him so wholly. How could someone actually want him to hurt them, humiliate them repeatedly and not walk away one day? Did he have the right to be loved? Articles One and Sixteen of the Declaration of Human Rights seemed to hint at that. But his mind screamed no. Did you love him? Or were you simply very committed to your Master? He dreaded having that conversation. How to even start? And fearing the possible answers altogether. Still, he thought whoever said ignorance is bliss clearly didn't know shit.

_"Damn right, I own you. You're MY bitch! But I have to go now... Talk to you later. Sleep tight."_

Ren shoved his phone among his belongings in his temporary bedroom, before going into the small room where everyone in the house would be having dinner, the hot food already served in bowls, waiting only for master Morimiya to join them.

On your side of the world you chuckled: a goodnight text, how normal! Plugging your phone in to charge, you rolled on your back and noted the sheepish sun rays peeping through the closed off, charged clouds.

Dazed, you couldn't elude the reminiscence of that Halloween though - _neither you nor Ren ever cared much about anything that was considered a celebration by your fellow human creatures, but Leia had asked for her boys to gather around with only one objective: Ben's twins had been born not that long prior to All Hallows' Eve and both him and the babies were staying in the family's house during the first year, as he needed more help then and was still addressing and adjusting to being a single dad of two and juggling a new job with more responsibilities than he had ever had till that moment. So any and every holiday was an excuse to go to the Organa-Solo's. Or the Organa's... It was complicated._

_You had been over their place a few times, you had met all of them that past Summer, their mother having been quite excited over you that year. It then passed._

_The scene Kylo had mentioned in the text was when you, Matt and he were all returning to the house from a little cafe. You were walking across suburbia, tons of kids still out trick-or-treating and you were letting them take the sidewalks, the three of you zigzagging often past children and parents in costume, when a girl who hardly seemed to be sixteen drove by in an SUV, slow, but still brushed the broadest titan's arm with the side view mirror and almost clipped his foot with her tire. She never stopped, both her and her friend on the passenger's seat yelling apologies from within the car._

_"Fucking look where you're going!", Ren screamed, enraged, some parents silently judging him for cursing around their children, others asking if he was alright._

_His arm would later bruise and he wouldn't stop ruminating and grumbling about that girl._

_When tiny Aric and Cari were asleep, the triplets and you headed down to the basement to hang out, barely paying attention to the screen showing season appropriate movies and gorging on the leftover candy, the youngest brother never truly loosened up, shushing everyone and flushing the baby monitor to his ear whenever he heard something, anything, even if it was simply their breaths hitching or a fart._

_"Just go and stay there, Ben... this is ridiculous. You can't pay attention to anything else and there you can actually, I don't know, hear them better or whatever. Just go.", Matt said._

_"What? Pfff! I'm fine! I'm fine, keep talking," he tore another wrapper and popped a peanut butter cup in his mouth, chewing as he crossed right leg over left one, restlessly swinging his foot at the ankle, "okay, fuck! I'm going! Good night, fuckfaces. Babycakes."_

_The three of you were often together during these early gatherings, generally in casual settings, exchanges about the most varied subjects out of curiosity or ennui, developing a friendship with the middle triplet and witnessing the nature of the relationship between the two brothers: the oldest, perpetually a mixture of_ blasé _and bitter, seemed to warm up a tad when dealing with the blonde, never losing his reserved trait, but seemingly being at relative ease; Matt never butted into his brother's life, adopting a reverence type of posture towards Ren, comfortable enough, but never wishing to poke the bear. Was unceremonious though, none of this was evident at a glance._

_The brothers considered each other, the raven-haired one sunk on the East end of the three-seater Lawson couch, heaving a long drag of his Dunhill Light, ashing it into the tray he lazily held over his lap and directing the smoke upwards and to the right side, reflexively pressing his lips as his gaze toughened slightly, instinctively causing for Matt to get up from his perpendicularly set seat and inform he was tired, taking one full fist of chocolate miniatures with him and wishing you a good night. Kylo took a quick, final draw and smashed the filter into the puny pile of soot, then placing the ashtray on the small surface by the armrest on his side, smoke exiting through his regal, Roman nose. With heels propped against the bottom front panel of the russet-hued sofa, your elevated knees supported your resting elbows, left cheek finding comfort in your cradling palm, as you looked over at this dude you had become close to. At this point, if you thought about it and had to label it, he was your best friend. Your only close friend, really, if not your only true friend ever._

_"Want to go home? Or do you wanna stay over?"_

_"I don't know, you drove me here. What do you want?"_

_He plucked his phone from the side table, randomly pressing on it so the screen would display the time for him, bending forth at the hip to level with you._

_"Whatever. It's twelve thirty-four, we'll have at least a couple of hours on the road before we get home. You, before you get home."_

_"What if we stayed, where am I sleeping? Here?"_

_"No, unless you want to be humped by a pretend-sleepwalking Ben..."_

_"Was that a thing?"_

_"Nah, not that I know of... yet. You can stay in my old room."_

_"And where are you staying?"_

_He gawked at you for a couple of heartbeats, eyebrows slightly raised._

_"In my room."_

_You gaped back at the hulking male, stumbling in thoughts._

_"I don-... I don't know if... you're eitherrr... not fully explaining the logistics of it or if you're just that confident."_

_Kylo smirked in amusement at the nervous and puzzled woman next to him._

_"Our bedrooms are quite large, we've always spent a lot of time there, and we're large ourselves, so... I have a large bed. And a couch. But we won't be using the couch. That couch, at least."_

_A mighty cold quiver stemmed from your chest outwards and visibly raked your whole figure, which vexed you._

_"So you are that confident...", the sentence took a while to come out of you, swallowing spit and hopefully your anxiety down._

_Lidded eyes of the saturated opulence of intermingled browns traveled down to the exposed skin of your arms and chest, noticing the tiny goosebumps that had come through._

_He chuckled and shook his head._

_"No..."_

_The back of your right hand's digits lifted to his cheek and fondled it while his eyes blinked slowly and his left hand swept the hair from your nape to one side, balmy, sultry lips contacting with your shoulder in a long peck and moving up onto the lateral and rear of the neck, shivers intensifying as he approached oversensitive spots, delicate sounds coming from you. Two pairs of hands divided between holding yourselves and each other's thighs, the largest dextral paw reaching your upper area, making him stop completely and turning to you dead on, audible breaths inflating and deflating his exerting lungs._

_"Can I do this? Do you want this?"_

_"Yes, very much so!"_

_"Are you sure? We do not ha-"_

_"Shh, I am sure, Ren. I want this." He almost seemed concerned at that point. "Take off your shirt," you whispered and watched the behemoth do so, his still unfinished tattoo sleeves revealing themselves as you admired them, lightly touching deltoids, triceps, biceps, pectorals, no substantial scar from shoulder to forehead yet, no deep, discolored damage on his larboard flank._

_Undoing the clasp behind you and under the clothes, you removed strappy top and bra altogether, sitting in the same amount of clothes as he did, waiting for him to caress you. Took him a while, Kylo examining your skin as his vision lowered, returning to your face after looking at your breasts and belly button for a while, repositioning closer to you and maneuvering your limbs towards him, yet out of the way so he could feel the texture and temperature of your epidermis against his fingerprints, then his whole cupping hands, kneading the curves on your frame as you attentively observed him and his reactions._

_"Take off the rest," he requested, getting up to his feet and hitting the switch to the harsh ceiling lights and rushing to the three table lamps surrounding both sofas and turning them on, while you removed shoes, jeans, socks and underwear and he stayed in his briefs, intercepting you from retaking your seat and staring at your body in the low light, softly tugging you to twirl half way and admire your backside as well._

_You were beautiful._

_In all the big things and the small things._

_But he never said it. He kept it inside, and would remain doing so._

_As if you would realize you were much better than him and wouldn't let him touch you again..._

_Leading you to sit with him, Kylo enveloped you in an embrace as he kissed your neck once more, your hands going downwards from their spot on his wide chest to his lap, lightly feeling the erection he hid in his underwear._

_"No, not yet, please. Let me do this, let me make you cum first."_

_You thought nothing of it, if anything flashed through your mind was that maybe he was considerate, generous._

_"Generous" was right. But you had no clue in what sense yet._

_Guiding you onto your back, he worshiped your entire body, kissing and rubbing every spot, taking time and giving you two full, drenching orgasms that you bit yourself through, striving for muzzled quietness in the dead of the night, in a mansion's basement. By the end, you were effectively boneless and sweating. Then he removed his underpants and contemplated you for feedback._

_Your left eyebrow twitched and furrowed a little, uncontrollably. New shivers ran up your chest._

_"You're large alright... I'm... sorry for staring..."_

_"'t's okay," he scratched his left nostril, still tasting you in his mouth, feeling vulnerable, "did you change your mind? We really don't have to do anything else."_

_"No! No, I did not change my mind! I'm just a tad... astounded. And frightened. You're", your hands waved open towards him and in circles, up and down, "a whole lot of man._

_And now I understand why all the... lengthy oral..."_

_He sat by you, who had gotten up from your previously sprawled position._

_"Yeah, but... I wanted to do it, not just because of that. I'd been wanting to know how you tasted for a while..."_

_Shifting from your place, you straddled his lap and loosely wrapped your forearms around his solid_ collum _._

_"Well, now I want to know how all of that feels inside of me."_

_"All of it?"_

_You looked in between your torsos, truly evaluating for a few seconds how long and thick his penis was, how previous experiences left you sore and tender and didn't come even close to his size._

_"All of it."_

_He scarcely licked his palm and pumped his fist along the majority of the length about four or five times._

_"Are you on birth control?"_

_"Uh-huh," your sight bounced from his face to his hand._

_"Okay, uh... here," he pulled his bunched up black jeans and handed them to you, "take out my wallet, I think there's a condom in there."_

_"You '_ think _there's a condom in there'?", you clumsily turned the pant legs outside in and searched for the pockets._

_"I don't usually keep them in my wallet...", he rested his head back, berating himself in case there was indeed no rubber, already foreboding a trip to his car._

_Yanking the wallet out, you quickly went through its contents and surely found a blue striped condom, leaning as much as you could towards the lamp on your left and_ _checking its state as well as the expiration date, the hefty foil crackling in between your fingers._

_"All is well."_

_"Open it."_

_You did as commanded and unraveled the rolled up polyurethane over the expectant and raging member, struggling a bit to fit it over the corona, having to stretch the thin sheath enough to almost fit both your index's first knuckles and the large glans, pulling the rest of it over the tower. When done, you watched him pulling on the whole thing, leaving room for the ejaculate, the base somewhat strangled._

_"Are you okay?"_

_"Yeah, I'm great. You still sure?"_

_You nodded and he drooled onto his paw, fingers spreading the wetness over his insulated dick, but letting it concentrate on the top the most. You lifted your hips and realized it wasn't high enough, your knees sinking into the cushion, so you set your soles by his bottom, elevating yourself and letting him guide the head and line it up with your entrance, but it couldn't go in. With an athletic, stable arm around your waist for support, you were helped down on it. Still, your vagina wouldn't relax enough to let him in._

_"Okay, I need to be on my back..."_

_Kylo rolled to the side and laid you both down, holding your legs open, your butt almost tipping to the floor in the spread eagle pose you were in, your turn to spit on your hand and lather one more layer of wetness over your contracting opening, his cast down eyes watchful and forlorn, but setting you ablaze as soon as he lifted them to you. You nodded and he gently advanced, prodding, pushing, over and over and over again until a sharp burst of unexpected pain shot through you, too sudden to have been contained in your vocal cords._

_"Are you okay? Do you want me to stop, I should stop-"_

_"NO! No! Please! Please, keep going. Slowly. Please."_

_He only did as you requested, settling millimeter by millimeter into you, possibly the slowest he'd ever done it, watching you subconsciously holding your breath during the insertion, while attempting to tell yourself to relax. He stopped. You felt beyond full, ranging between shaking and being completely still._

_"Are you all in?"_

_"... No..."_

_"My fuckin' god," you exhaled loudly, "keep going."_

_"Are you sure? You don't have to prove anything to me nor to yourself."_

_"I know and I'm sure. I want all of you inside of me. Go slow and don't stop. Please, Ren."_

_He resumed, your insides on fire, stinging pain that you wanted nothing more but to get used to. Soon, he was telling you that was all the position allowed for._

_"Can I even move?", he asked, genuinely concerned and intrigued._

_"Guhhh, yes! Will you freak out if I cry?"_

_"Do you want to cry?"_

_"No, but I can tell it's gonna happen..."_

_"So shouldn't we just not do this?"_

_"Ren...?", you closed your eyes as you tried to focus, himself zeroing on your face upclose, "you're going to hurt me... and I need you to hurt me... I know it might sound weird... but if you can handle it, please don't stop even when I'm crying."_

_He was amazed. Undergoing a kind of pain he could not even fathom and yet, you were more concerned about his emotional well-being than a potential trip to the emergency room and the possibility of psychological damage._

_Something went through him and he could have climaxed right there. But you didn't know that side of his at the time. And he surely didn't know that side of yours._

_Both of you began to discover it when he would leave you bleeding for two straight days and you both craved more._

_Neither of you knew that first time would trigger the next four and a half years._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lame sexting all the way.  
> KYLO REN DOESN'T NEED REDEMPTION!  
> He looked at Reader's face the first time, then spent half a year banging her from behind (not always, but still), cause the boy has issues. And wallets are NOT the proper place to store condoms - there's snug friction that can damage it, not to mention the increase of heat when keeping a wallet in pants or leaving it in the car, for example. Be smart. I've mentioned before where Ren keeps the condoms in his car, not the best place, but it's cooler (as in temperature), besides, he loves his wheels and wastes too much gas looking for ideal parking in the shade. Now...  
> Children, don't do this. Don't put anything that big in you, unless you know, and I mean KNOW, your body and your psyche. Tissue tearing is easy and too real. Also, tears (not the ones you cry, but might MAKE you cry) can lead to infections and more serious scarring. Do yourself a favor and be safe.
> 
> The only visual of this chapter, cause I can't stand looking at a screen anymore and still have to write more shite:  
> Basement couch(es): two of [these](http://tinyurl.com/z7uryy3), weathered.
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	38. Envisage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: abuse of Japanese language by a non-Japanese non-speaker, me.  
> Check the end notes for the translation of dialogue, terms and visuals, as always.

Everything was silent but that rooster - six twenty-seven in the morning and there it was, loud, far, greeting the new day. The sun had been up for a few minutes only. He knew because he saw the first rays invading the room and tearing through its darkness, casting light on the wooden wall, close to the ceiling. And the old lady's pattering feet across the kitchen and on the _engawa_. Today she had overslept, sounded like she was rushing. With that he felt bad, didn't want to make someone of advanced age feel like they had to cater to him - however he knew it wasn't his place to express that and attempt to modify traditions. After all, he was a guest.

Unable to remain in bed, Kylo rose and opened the _fusuma_ leading to the back, stretching as he stepped into his slippers and walked outside, sore from the previous training. He felt quite glad for having the opportunity to train under Morimiya Kazuo, who was a seasoned sensei in his art and a very bad joke teller, furthering his own knowledge and being immersed in the simple yet disciplined life of that quiet home in the middle of the woods. While scouting the surrounding leafless trees, seeing scattered snowflakes idly dancing on their way down to the small pond circled by heavy rock _Yukimi-dōrō_ , he imagined living in a place just like that, for a moment.

Not alone.

He could see it.

Osa-san suspended his thoughts as she summoned the _gaikokujin_ for breakfast. _O bāchan_ had made a pot of hearty _butajiru_ , fried eggs, white rice, cold tofu and _nattō_ , which he had never tried before the trip and had proven to be quite the acquired taste for him, not being a fan of neither the flavor nor the putrid smell. Furthermore his teacher enjoyed torturing him, regularly enumerating the health benefits of eating such delicacy. Kylo was too embarrassed to say he didn't like it or that he didn't want to eat it, so he did his best to mix it with the rice and the _kombu dashi_. He was trying. Morimiya always sat across from him and had the habit of noticing how his nostrils twitched a tiny bit every time he would make a move for the fermented soybeans. The smaller male loved asking the outsider about America and the city he lived in - he had traveled and taught his art in California and Washington, however he seemed keen on visiting the other States and demonstrated quite the interest for New York. The Colossus then ensured he would contact the management and administration of both places where he worked at and hinted at the possibility of a workshop plan and _shiai_ that could come together prior to the _dojos_ ' participation in the national championships.

After their meal and amusing chat, the men headed outside to train, warming up and stretching muscles in flowing movements, working every joint in their bodies in the hopes of preventing injury in the still cold morning air. The older one always displayed curiosity towards watching Ren's large constitution wrap and whirl, even during conditioning - there was this peculiarity that had caught his attention while he judged the competitors in the tournament weeks ago. That day they set out to improve simple and fluid, yet very specific moves focused on fingers and wrists, replaying them repeatedly, while sharing their views on more effective ways to intensify traction and balance in case of adversaries differing greatly in height and weight, corroborating with both theory and experience. Halfway through practice, master Morimyia spoke about how _aikidō_ was never intended to ask of their students to build muscle, but to have a healthy and proportioned diet, to cultivate a compassionate, strong and purposeful warrior character as well as an aligned body and mind through strict training and enlightenment, the original view promoting a flexible frame and not a bulky nor defined physique. And that was precisely the singularity: Ren was tall and broad and heavy and sculpted and he walked like such, however while training he moved elegantly, controllably and fluidly. The prodigious man acknowledged Kazuo's words and shared that prior to _aikidō_ and other Japanese arts, he had practiced a few others, which targeted disparate goals throughout his teens and early adulthood years. And while he discontinued the practice of those and focused on learning more disciplined and less raging arts, he disclosed that meditation wasn't enough for him. He did undeniably have an unrestrained need for physical power, even as a placebo - due to the extreme anxiety of being aware that everything was indeed beyond his control in the greater sense, Kylo required repetition and order in different levels and in all areas of life, whether it was from drinking a daily glass of water at the same time, every time or developing his muscles, increasing the illusion of control. Or even dominating and subjugating his slave, knowing he was in charge, he could make it stop or he could make it last. That final remark he did not express to the sensei. A mixture of psychological skills and physical feats that maintain an equilibrium too fragile, he knew. However, it was his way to cope. Morimiya couldn't understand how such opposing views could inhabit one body, which was a reflection of how the foreigner wasn't a true believer.

He wasn't.

He was just trying to not want to die every day.

They talked and questioned each other, showing moves and perfecting them, discussing the interlaced demand between aerobic and anaerobic exercises, to polish both endurance and explosion in the individual's anatomy. By mid afternoon, they concluded the session and were called to a large, late lunch, the master saying he would take grandma Kokuro to town for some shopping and encouraging Kylo to go out and up the mountain, where he could unwind and soak in a private _onsen_. "Will be good for your muscles and joints. And your scars," the sensei said.

The leviathan remained in the house that evening though, deciding to defer such indulgence for the following day, which he would have clear. Bound in a _taoruketto_ , he sat on the wooden platform that circled the house and played fetch with Tamotsu, hurling a short, smooth staff with teeth markings all over it, the dog returning and presenting it, wagging his tail excitedly, barely able to hand the stick over to Kylo for him to throw it again.

Once the sun went down, he picked up the dog's metallic bowl and made his way into the shed in the backyard, filling it with his ration and putting it back in its place. He petted the mutt and went inside, showering and settling in his room for the night. After he unearthed his phone from the pile of neatly folded clothes in the dresser's top drawer, three texts were read and only the second one was answered. Stretching on the _tatami_ floor, he simply lay there, brooding.

 

*

 

The house was empty by late morning, Kylo packing wallet and passport, cell phone, a bottle of water and a portable battery charger in his backpack and burying his old, black Yankees ball cap down to his eyes, as he trekked up the mountain for the hour-long trip to the hot springs. Once there, and according to rules, he paid for two hours in a _kashikiri-buro_ , so he could soak in hushed tranquility, with no inspecting nor disapproving looks at his tattoos. Out of four family rooms, he chose a random one, walked through a wide corridor accompanied by a middle aged woman, who then gestured to a door to his right, indicating the selected suite. He thanked her and she briefly bowed her head, reminding him of the expiration time.

Beyond the entrance was a chamber entirely made out of _hinoki_ cypress lumber, including the bathtub. There, he let his bag plop on a counter, removing his sneakers and all clothes, carelessly dropping them on top of the backpack, wrapping his inky tresses that passed his shoulders up in a casual, clumsy bun and rinsing his body in the customary warm pre-shower. He bent at the waist and dipped his fingertips in the steaming, scalding acidic water, testing its high temperature as condensation gathered on the surface of the opened window glass. One leg lifted and sunk the dark skulls adorning it into the liquid, the other one following behind. Ensconcing his genitalia with his hands as a futile form of protection against the initial scorching sting, he got on his knees slowly and let his physique get accustomed to the thermal reading, splashing his face, neck and upper arms and firmly rubbing the skin. He leaned back against the tub wall and closed his eyes.

Quietude.

Nothing but the souse slosh sound and a torpid, deep-seated inhale and exhale, his whole shape slumping.

Behind his eyelids, introspection.

 

*

 

" _Ojisan, dokoni ita no?_ " 

" _Watashi wa yama ni imashita. Dōshite?_ " 

" _Misetai mono ga arimasu,_ " the little girl exclaimed, taking him by the hand into the house, while kicking off her shoes and letting go of his large fingers to nicely place them together and facing out, waiting for the long-haired giant to do the same, then clasping her tiny hand around three of his digits once again. 

Arriving at her great-grandmother's room, she paused, expectantly looking upwards at Kylo: in the middle of the very empty room was a spread out true blue cloth with small bowls with plastic food and dirt and two dolls, the one he had previously seen her playing with and another one. Yukino just kept staring up at the man, who then looked down at her.

" _Kite! Mite, kore wa anatadesu!_ " 

" _Kore ga watashidesu?_ " 

" _Hai,_ " she pointed at the newer and larger doll, " _Sore wa ōkiku, nagai kami o shite imasu. Sore wa anatadesu!_ " 

They both approached the makeshift set table and she promptly got on her knees, asking for the foreign uncle to sit on the floor and eat with them. The little girl sat with her toy person in front of herself and put the other one on Ren's lap, helping them through the pretend meal, making voices and babbling something about the cold dinner and how someone's child was still not home yet and how dangerous it could be in the upcoming storm and a whole bunch of stuff the American couldn't make out, his eyebrows tense in concentration, chuckling throughout her shenanigans. When grandma showed up in the _washitsu_ , she quickly apologized for the the child's pestering, which he dismissed, claiming it was entertaining.

In two weeks, he would be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Japanese terms:  
> Engawa: [this](http://tinyurl.com/jkj64sn) strip platform.  
> Fusuma: vertical rectangular panels that slide and work as doors and walls, limiting rooms.  
> Yukimi-dōrō: legged, rock, outdoor lantern. (Visual below.)  
> Gaikokujin: politically correct way to say gaijin, "outsider", "foreigner", "white man".  
> (O) bāchan: grandma, how usually children address their grandmothers.  
> Butajiru: pork and vegetable soup, flavored with miso paste. (Visual below.)  
> Nattō: fermented soybeans. (Visual below.)  
> Kombu dashi: clear broth (dashi) with kelp (kombu). (Visual below.)  
> Shiai: competition, tournament, fight.  
> Aikidō: martial art, "the way of harmonious spirit".  
> Onsen: hot springs, typically public.  
> Taoruketto: light blanket.  
> Tatami: mat flooring.  
> Kashikiri-buro: private onsen rooms. (Visual below.)  
> Washitsu: Japanese-style room.
> 
> Yukino's dialogue with Ren:  
> "Uncle, where were you?"  
> "I was on the mountain. Why?"  
> "There is something I want to show you."  
> "Come! Look, this is you!"  
> "This is me?"  
> "Yes. It is big and has long hair. That is you!"
> 
> This chapter's visuals:  
> Yukimi-dōrō: [here](http://tinyurl.com/zxoto5j)  
> Breakfast: [here](http://tinyurl.com/gp25ahc)  
> Ren's cap: [here](http://tinyurl.com/jlbwpud)  
> Ren's kashikiri-buro: [here](http://tinyurl.com/gudzcxu)
> 
>  
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)  
> [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	39. Strand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: self-loathing, mentions of suicide and unworthiness.  
> Just don't fucking read. Might erase later.

Crying was exhausting.

That pain inside you, unnamed. And you didn't know where it hurt. It wasn't your head, nor your chest - those were consequences, not causes.

Was your brain and your synapses, what made you believe your soul hurt, was always hurting, always had been, always would be.

Soul...

Whatever that was, whatever that meant. That thing you were lead to believe you had.

You could hear the sky above, like when there's a storm at sea, like there's a hole larger than life above you. In you.

Disparity.

Because everything was too much, housing galaxies of feelings in your chest, far too many for a single person, far too much to be contained. But there they were - permanently about to burst through the seams. And these, though, seemed reinforced, double thickness, taunting you, tormenting you, making you presume you could not hold on to any more when you clearly kept hoarding them. Infinitely too much.

More, add more! _"She'll take it. She won't die like she's always thinking she will! She won't die like she's always wishing she will!"_ More, add more.

Thought you were done with tears for the night. You were wrong.

Listening closely to the black void, it restarted raining. Sick and tired of the cold, but too in love with the melody.

In love...

So tired. Of waiting. For the impossible to happen.

Childish _naïveté_.

Unrestrained dreams.

Unattainable. Unachievable.

Unworthy.

Barren.

_"Make her a mother of Legion. Doesn't she thrive on that? Pierce her with more pain! She loves it!"_

Add more.

Feeling so close and being so far away. As maudlin lyrics through the ages.

Hollow sound of roguish tears falling on linen sheet over mattress, exactly like raindrops on an umbrella.

Precisely the same thud!

How curious!

And how curious that you had always hated the pathetic fallacy in movies and literature, making both nature and main character cry simultaneously, yet... look.

02:22

Been happening for months, if not a whole year... Not always, but more often than not, when you looked at the time, there it was: 01:23, 03:45, 04:44, 12:34, 00:00. You thought nothing of it, just chuckled, there were no angels, those were no signs. Military time.

Still, you noticed all details.

Your heartbeat so strong for no reason but to keep cells oxygenated.

No purpose.

No motivation.

No hope.

Hiding, yet so afraid to be meaningless. Not to the world - you had given up on that. But to him.

 ** _Him_**.

And your people.

Not _people_. _Your_ people.

The people you would never have, the people you would never see, the people you would never meet.

The people you would never raise.

No, you were only allowed to give birth to the monsters that gave birth to you. The only things truly yours, your demons.

The only ones who would ever reciprocate unconditionally.

The only ones who would never let you go.

How could you ever be allowed to have anything normal?

Why would you be granted the impossible, sick child?

That's what you were to them - sick, childish, inadequate, delusional, obsessed. Dismissed.

Nothing.

You are nothing.

You deserve nothing.

You will have nothing.

And you should be grateful for it!

So keep on wishing and wanting and needing! Just that one thing... that is impossible.

And _hear_ them say it's impossible, it's stupid, it's childish, _"you need to get over it"_.

You needed to get over the only reason you were here.

Still here.

Bleeding here.

Drowning here.

Erase your existence. Like a mistake on a paper.

No one will notice.

The impossibility with a full name won't notice.

You thought you were done with tears for the night.

You were wrong.

03:21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	40. Martyrdom

He leaned back into the hard chair and stretched his long arms above his head, unceremoniously yawning with all he had, in a completely empty and darkened office level, two fifty in the morning and at the desk of some architecture and design company in Billings, Montana, after a day of mind-numbing meetings and explanations and hours upon hours of introducing, entering and testing the coding and software needed to help said company expand their horizons and therefore clientele and profits. He had sold them way more than the basics they asked for, couldn't complain there. That meant extra work for him, but more funds in the account and more applied investments to his future. Whatever the hell that meant. He wasn't quite sure what the future held in storage for him. He was pretty tempted to think it held nothing, as it wasn't a sentient being. But what he was sure of was that if he didn't hurry up back to the hotel, he wouldn't have enough time to return the rental car and catch his flight back home. Thursday nights were stressful but they always meant his weekend was starting. Well, whenever he didn't offer himself for overtime... It was always a matter of how terrifyingly quiet it would get at home. Not that he didn't like to relax... but the sound of loneliness ate his insides.

By seven twenty-nine the plane was lifting from the ground and leaving a workweek behind and about eight hours later it was landing in La Guardia, an aspirin being swallowed after a bumpy brush through sleep and a couple of pretty alright in-flight meals. He grabbed his carry-on and waited calmly for the other passengers to finally let him pass, the cabin crew thanking everyone and wishing them a good day as they left the aircraft, one of the women smiling a bit more coyly than the rest, the only action from him a tight-lipped simper and his eyes setting on the floor ahead, arguing with himself in his mind while walking through the airport. Maybe, just maybe, he should make an effort...

He sent a couple of texts and emails from the cab, telling his mom he wasn't dead, confirming with Ben that he wouldn't be able to drive there that Saturday, to which the youngest triplet counter-offered and made him promise to attend next weekend's "stupid neighborhood-barbecue-celebration-thingy", where he was sure he would die in if his brother didn't go. He checked the time on his watch and sent a picture of these mixed berries and whipped cream crepes he had for breakfast that past Tuesday to Kylo.

" _Look and weep_ ," he wrote.

His brother replied a few minutes later.

" _I am actively hating you right now. Can you feel it? I hope you can._ "

" _Here have another one._ "

" _Why you do this to me? I thought we were brothers._ "

Matt chuckled, the melancholic and taciturn sibling seemed to be in an amiable spirit.

" _When do you come back?_ "

" _On the 12th. Why?_ "

" _Ill pick you up text me the time on the saturday before i got stuff to talk to you about._ "

" _Would it kill you to use some punctuation? And fine, but what did you do?_ "

" _!.!.?!,?!!:;.,!?! use it as you wish i didn't do anything ill tell you then_ "

" _... For fuck's sake._ "

He then scrolled on his phone's contacts, down and back up, stopping at a few, thinking, but not deciding on anything. He got home, unpacked and threw clothes in the machine to wash, leaving his small opened suitcase in the middle of the kitchen's floor and headed to his room, placing his glasses on top of the dresser by the entryway, falling face first onto the commodious, bouncy mattress and groaning, spread out like a five-pointed star. He remained in that position for a while, almost falling asleep with how drained he felt. Peeking from the cushiony hold of his pillow to the alarm clock where four oh nine was highlighted in a chartreuse yellow, he lazily pulled up his hips to remove the mobile from his right front pocket, put in his code and opened a conversation thread. He hesitated for half a minute that felt too long.

" _What are you doing?_ ", he entered, pressed the little blue arrow and waited, top incisors biting down on his lower lip, setting the phone against the headboard and staring at it for as long as it would take, lumbering arms smothering his cushion.

" _Not much. Considering the hollowness of life and what to snack on. You?_ "

He chortled, taking the device in his huge hands and typing.

" _Not much either just got home from montana done for the week wanna go somewhere?_ "

" _Yes, Martha's Vineyard._ "

" _Are you serious?_ "

" _No, it was the most pompous place that crossed my mind. Was either that or Nantucket._ "

" _We used to go there as kids haha we could totally go there this weekend if you actually want to._ "

" _Martha's Vineyard or Nantucket?_ "

" _Was talking about vineyard but nantucket too._ "

" _Don't you have anything more interesting to do on weekends?_ "

He stared at the small screen, absorbed by the thoughts of what he wished he could do. Sniffing out of abstraction, he turned stomach up on his bed.

" _Yes these walls are really quite interesting to look at from every possible angle the ceiling too._ "

You took a while to reply.

" _Go out. Get laid. I have faith in you! YES, YOU CAN!_ "

" _Are YOU going out since when do people of our kind go out and mate?_ "

" _First of all... can't believe you said 'mate'. Second, I belong in my cave. Third... I don't know, but there must be a way, I've heard of such legends._ "

" _Can I come over?_ "

" _Are you coming on to me?_ "

" _Yes thats definitely it i am that smooth._ "

" _Hm, I thought so. :P But are you serious?_ "

" _About what?_ "

" _Coming over. I mean, actually stopping by._ "

" _Yeah i mean if you dont have anything to do and want to like play something and have food._ "

" _Are you trying to fatten me, boy?_ "

" _Yes you catch on all my plans pretty quickly._ "

" _No one fools me! Hah! Anyway, shouldn't I go there? The thought of giving you all this trouble after you just got home is giving me more guilt anxiety than getting over myself and go there..._ "

" _Up to you what should i order for food?_ "

" _What time should I be there?_ "

He sat up on his bed and looked around, not really for anything, but perhaps to make sure his apartment was in acceptable shape, muttering "stupid" under his breath as he dragged his butt off the bedding and walked around the other rooms, closing the suitcase left in the kitchen and rolling it to the side, sighing at the long shot of you going in his bedroom for longer than the necessary time to choose a video game.

" _7 or whenever you want to after that?_ "

" _Why can't I come over before 7?_ "

" _I dont know you just asked for a time and i gave you one!_ "

" _True, but it was only because I didn't want to be too early and catch you with your pants down and sticking something inside a huge-breasted, uniform-wearing, Japanese-yet-clearly-White big figurine or something..._ "

" _Is that really what you think i do?_ "

" _After being away from home for almost a whole week? As tempted as I am to say 'yes', Imma go with 'no', because I'm just messing with you._ "

" _WOW why you hate me?_ "

" _WHAT? I don't hate you! I was just teasing. I'm sorry if I crossed the line._ "

" _I was joking too come whenever you want i must warn you though absolutely nothing has changed since the last time you were here in 1847._ "

" _... I see you are once again mocking my hyperbolic use of hyperboles. Touché. Go shower, I'll be there in an hour or whenever traffic allows me to. The things I do for you..._ "

" _You didnt tell me what to order._ "

" _Whatever you want._ "

Matt walked through his kitchen, scanning cabinets and fridge, attempting to find some sort of idea or inspiration, before establishing his preference that evening.

" _I actually want breakfast for dinner._ "

" _I WILL COOK THEN! You'll rub my feet after._ "

" _I will not be taken advantage of!_ "

" _Yeah, you will. :P See you in a bit._ "

" _Be safe ^_^_ "

Returning to his bedchamber, he picked up a clean crew neck, nickel-hued undershirt and achromatic, light gray, cotton boxer briefs, closing the drawer and going to his closet to grab pants, when he stopped himself, backtracking to the dresser and yanking a pair of Nike shorts out of the chest. He then shuffled to the bathroom, taking the fresh garments with him and turning on the water, adjusting the temperature to his liking, disrobing and using the toilet before getting in the tub and letting the warm stream soak his rowdy, decolorized curls, facing away from the shower and feeling the spray lightly massaging his neck and back, sizable, solid hands stroking over his face, pondering if he should shave the incoming stubble, but postponing it - felt too lazy, wanted to stay in that weekend, he suddenly decided. Matt reached for the space cadet blue bar of organic shampoo, which had been a suggestion of yours after being completely converted to healthy, lavish options for hygiene by his older triplet, coconut, macadamia, avocado, honey and lemon among the essences that exuded once he began lathering and rubbing his scalp. For a second, he thought about getting a massage one day. His job was taxing, he could feel the knots and tension in his _trapezius_ , scalene and suboccipital muscles, poor posture even producing prickling migraines. Perhaps those would allay if he pampered himself every now and then... The idea of strangers touching him was exasperating though.

He sighed.

"Why can't she see me?"

 

*

 

"Holy shit, legs! And we're not even at the beach!"

"Conscious decision for you to get off my case!", he stretched his arms out and down towards his bottom half, presenting the pale lower limbs that elongated past the onyx basketball shorts with bright mint patterns, exaggerated, ecstatic beam displayed on his look.

"I was only messing with ya back in Florida," leaning towards Matt, you greeted him in a repaid half-hug.

"I know, I know. Come in," gesturing ahead of himself, he spun to escort you further into the apartment.

You placed your bag on his English roll arm, light tanned tweed couch as you both entered the living room and glanced through. It had been a while since you last were at his place, never having felt comfortable with Matt's flatmate around. Apprehensively, he attempted to apologize for the unkept surroundings.

"I actually fired the cleaning lady... long time ago. Kept her for a while after my roommate left, like three months more or so, but... I go away so often for an entire week and I just... didn't want anyone touching my stuff. Or coming here when I'm not home, you know? So I just couldn't take it and... redirected her to a work colleague."

"I... Why are you- have we not met before? I don't care how your place looks! But wow - you actually found her another job," he nodded, "that's freaking great, man, so thoughtful! But I can relate, I do not want anyone touching my stuff, ever, under any circumstances."

Unless they were Ren. And Matt. He had some freedom of range.

"Yeah, I mean, can't you tell when something has been messed with and is not in the exact same angle you left it in?"

"Absolutely! That used to drive me insane when I was a kid. So easy to see when someone has been snooping around..."

"I know, right?!"

"Mhm."

The silence could have been awkward, but it wasn't. Or perhaps it just didn't last long enough to get there.

"So!", he slapped his hands together loudly, "ready to go in the kitchen?"

"Well, you better be meaning the both of us or I just might have to cut off your balls for that comment."

"Jesus Christ! Don't...", his eyes closed for a moment, shaking the gut-felt risk off, "say that. You know I'm helping you..."

Your fabricated diabolical, witchy laughter followed the tall blonde to the mentioned place.

"Eggs. That's all I'm caring about," hands open and facing outwards, you warned him of your intentions.

"Perfect! Those are probably the only good thing in the fridge by now anyway! I didn't buy groceries yet."

"Why didn't you tell me? I could've brought you stuff! Now we're gonna have eggs and," you opened the refrigerator, plucked the carton of eggs and looked around, touching some things as you roughly evaluated them, "eggs! We'll have eggs with eggs. Please, clean those scraps of moldy peppers and slimy lettuce while I'm doing this. Your ice box is smelling like sadness."

"I know, this is what happens when I get _randomly selected_ to go out of State and replace unwilling coworkers."

"Happens often? Last minute, I mean?"

"Eh, there are seasons. Like when people have family birthdays approaching or dating anniversaries... or just don't want to do it," he thoughtlessly explained, gathering the spoiled food and turning on the garbage disposal as he rid himself of it all.

"Well, I do get why all the take out then."

"Yeah, besides, you know I don't really have patience to cook," wetting a sponge, he poured some fresh, citric-scented dishwashing soap onto it, squeezed into a suds and marched to the soiled fridge drawer, wiping it clean.

Twenty minutes later, you were both sitting on his couch with plates on your laps and coffee mugs on the table between you and the TV, Matt eating cheesy scrambled eggs, sprinkled with whatever dry herbs you could find and throw along some salt and pepper, you having the same minus the cheese, an early episode of good old _Lupin III Part III_ playing on the Samsung sixty inch screen. Once both plates were set down and four episodes had been gone through, he asked you if you wanted to keep on watching or play something.

"Let's play something as old as I feel."

"There were no consoles made five hundred years ago."

Sharply turning to your right, you glared and he flinched.

"You know me so well."

"Okay, for a split second I thought you were going to hit me," you both laughed. "Come choose the game."

Getting up to your feet, he led you to his bedroom and gestured to the shelves, crouching as he brought your attention below.

"Old school stuff is here now, did you have something in mind?"

"Yes, co-op," you leveled low next to him, your eyes scanning through and trying to find what you were looking for, "I kinda miss playing _Golden Axe_."

"What? You have that one!"

"Yeah, but I haven't played it in forever!"

"But why don't you choose something you dont' have and can't play at home?"

"I don't know, I've thought about that game the other day..."

"Then play it at home!"

"Why don't you wanna play _Golden Axe_ with me?"

"It's not that I don't want to play it with you, but you have it. Makes little sense, choose something else."

"Okay, maybe," you continued looking at the owned titles, hoping one of them would reel you in.

"Not 'maybe', 'definitely'!"

"Hey! Wanna play by yourself?" You pointed a threatening digit in his direction, in all your great mood, and making him giggle.

"No! No," raising his hands in a defensive gesture, the man attested, "I wanna play with you. I much rather play with you."

"Hm," you squinted at him, his own chocolate swirling eyes lingering on you as your vision deflected to his collection, pulling out a boxed cartridge, "we shall play _Streets of Rage 2_ , the best game on the Genesis."

You stood up, cradling your pick, Matt also rising and passing you in height immensely, head down, staring at you.

"'Best game on the Genesis'? That's debatable."

"It's not. Do you wanna play alone?"

"No. I really wanna play with you..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once worked with a photographer from Nantucket. That's all.  
> Well, also, I'm old.
> 
> Visuals for this chapter that included characters I did not want to include -shrugs-:  
> Mixed berries crepes: [good lord](http://tinyurl.com/z6hd33j)  
> Matt's undershirt: [here](http://tinyurl.com/hl699a7)  
> Matt's underwear: [here](http://tinyurl.com/gupgzeo)  
> Matt's shorts: [here](http://tinyurl.com/zjcfm9g)  
> Matt's shampoo bar: [here](http://tinyurl.com/zrqz6vh)  
> Matt's couch: [here](http://tinyurl.com/joxadrz)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	41. Paroxysm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Ren's return had been mentioned before a few chapters ago, I kinda knew what was required of this chapter. When that happens (which is rarely ever!), I write a note on the top of my own files to remind me if there's a particular place the characters need to go or some action that will trigger something, that kind of thing. For this chapter, and again, because he had revealed his intentions by his previous text-exchange with Reader, I wrote as a note to myself: 
> 
> "(Ren arrives from Japan/S&M)"
> 
> And this is what happened.

Matinal Monday didn't want you to stay in bed. The sun had risen and you had typically turned to the opposite angle of the huge industrial windows, trying to prolong that hazy state as much as you could, but your pillow was too warm. Pointless to switch sides too - you had been hugging it and the warmth of your body had seeped through.

Abandoning it altogether, you crossed your frame diagonally in bed and hoped the gods would take you back to the land of unconsciousness, where the release of norepinephrine, serotonin and histamine would simply be suppressed. The bastards didn't though and at that point even your angered accelerated heartbeat was riling you, inevitably setting the ceaseless circle of rage off, all your muscles forcefully shaking in aversion to the lack of serenity, chaotic _coiffure_ over your morning puffed features like an hour-labored tousled style on a _glamour_ model from a magazine spread. Well, not quite.

The door to your studio opened, strapping outline forming in your mind's eye with every treasured, familiar sonority: assorted, sharp clinks; absorbed, spongy thump; contained, ceramic clang; regular, released rustles; a single heavy puff and a handful of heavy steps.

"Oh, my god," in a sighed whisper of wonder, your extremities supported the jolt to verticality, bustling to meet him about halfway through your apartment, "oh, my god," then coming out slightly louder upon your eyes converging, a spontaneous soft smile on his countenance as he saw you.

Tight fists clawed the back of his cotton jersey tunic, while sturdy arms squished you, prior to hooking under your rear and pulling you up, your own limbs clasping behind his neck and butt, the cold morning air trapped in his clothes warming up against your skin.

"Hello. That's a lot of... glee," he spoke, low, reverberating in your ears and against your whole torso, chin going into his face as he looked at you up close and in partial incredulity.

Your head tilted all the way back, eyes scrunched closed as a thought process developed in such wee hours of the day.

"I really... don't like that term," your words were dragged in reluctance, a yawn catching you off-guard immediately after. "Can't you use 'elation'? So much pleasant to my ears..."

"Hm, how Chaucer of you."

"Right up your alley... but it's really because TV ruined the word for me..."

He gazed at your sleepy status, in the corners of your eyes glistening dampness from the earlier yawn was visible whenever you opened them.

"Are we to persist in the colloquy regarding lexemes and what our contemporary civilization has done to them?"

Sacchariferous melodiousness, Kylo's rich and mollifying articulation enveloped your senses like his arms did your body - adamantly, indubitably, enrapturedly, longingly, unconditionally. For longer than imagined, all you could do was to drink his voice and his presence, searing in your _cerebrum_ both the decipherable and abstruse feelings in you, caused by no one else before and no one else since, but him. All skin covering your body compressed as that wonted _frisson_ traveled up your vertebral column, heart rate quickening, a mellow yet frayed puff of air barely hit his nose. You slowly shook your head.

"No..."

He could feel you irradiating heat against his stomach.

Fuck, he could almost say what was burning inside of him...

He did not have that in mind when he got on the train to go to your place.

Bumping you to a higher hold with his upper body, the left hand cupped your bottom towards the center while his dextral one pushed loose pants and underwear down, waistband elastic helping secure the heavy member underneath as the same paw concurrently felt for your entrance and positioned his erection ready to thrust into you.

Ren looked despondent, ravenous, panting and whimpering as he slipped in, snagging and dragging your skin, glutting your cunt. You called his name through clenched teeth, elbows and forearms digging around his clavicle, automatically attempting to ascend and escape your exalted abuser and preferred torture, his face settling onto your neck, forehead pressing against your jaw, all his features crumpled. Pulsating chest inflating and deflating in an erratic pattern. The Fallen One was crying.

He definitely did not plan for that...

You petted him, sweeping your tresses to the opposite side and brushing his own hair off his gorgeous face, charming him out of the sentimental, sheltered slot, kissing his collar.

"Ren... Ren, let's lie down," you whispered by his ear.

Your hands never stopped. He floundered inside his head with you in his arms, the soft voice from the lighthouse humming once again, long laden limbs plodding through your studio instructed by you, kneeling down on the unruliness of sheets and blankets he had sullied innumerous times, dilatorily slanting and reposing melded figures onto the king-sized surface. Kylo didn't move, curled over you, shuddering. From your paralyzed position, scanning eyes and fumbling hands spotted extremities of bedding and strove to obscure and harbor the herculean creature, swaddling him in love and safety. Slowly, you felt him tipping over to his right, taking you with, early light shining shyly.

Everything was still quiet outside.

You contemplated him: tense _occipitofrontalis_ , _procerus_ and _corrugator_ _supercilii_ muscles causing a distraught frown expression; twinkling dew between the nasolacrimal duct and nose bridge, bundling the resting _cilia_ in fours, fives and sixes like flower stems in bouquets; faint flush on the imperial aquiline nose. His eyelids retracted and he focused right into your own irises, puncturing your chest, unknowingly. Again, always, causing your whole body to flood in thrill inside, felt and seen on the outside, completely in control of you, your eyebrows meeting as you couldn't help a reflexive whined inhale.

He reigned over you.

Synchronous fortuitousness, the pads of your digits touched the hairs on his chin while he advanced onto your face, full lips kissing your cheek and jaw, his clothed self grinding against your nude frame, holding you tighter than the draped and folded coverings around the both of you, his shaft persevering immersed within the constraint of your stretched pussy. Like two withered, thorny bushes of the second ring of the seventh circle of Dante's _Inferno_ , you fueled the undying fire in the second circle, damp, feverished heat fusing you together, afflicted, conquered by the Ells flowing in your veins and arteries.

"I missed you..."

By then you were all gasps and moans. Fondling and squeezing, his huge hands alternated roaming your body, securing you in place and pulling you closer. As though it was possible.

It didn't last long, weeks of deliberated, disciplined asceticism abdicated in that poignant, precipitated moment, muttered half-words, throaty groans and sweltry, concupiscent mouths connecting to skin in oscules and nibbles.

This was not what he had in mind, but the day had only started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, control over this "story"? It's pretty much zero, folks. I don't know what the fuck Crylo Ren is doing...  
> I do apologize for its brevity. A mixture of real life shit and an attempt at damage control over what was happening in the chapter made it about 1/3 of what was going to be. Now I'm berating myself for that huge mistake.
> 
> The sweet visuals for this chapter:  
> Your windows (cause I don't think I ever showed them, should probably include this in the second chapter too, dammit): [type, size and placement reference](http://tinyurl.com/humwqnp) (regarding the distance from the ground)  
> Ren's clothes: [pants](http://tinyurl.com/z8aww56), [top](http://tinyurl.com/hvnjxba), [boots](http://tinyurl.com/jurqs67) and [jacket](http://tinyurl.com/h9bv3v9), but in [this color of wool](http://tinyurl.com/jecfsk3). "But you don't mention any jacket." Not explicitly. Re-read.
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	42. Repute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting twice a week for the next month or so, Mondays as usual and hopefully Thursdays (Fridays if unexpected shit happens, yada-yada).

"Mmmmmmmnahfuck... Your pussy tastes so good..."

The top of your cheeks were burning, skin a little cold to the touch but underneath you were on fire, pure coal hydrogenation, the rich blood in your arteries like ablaze liquefied anthracite. Wasn't too often that he commented on your sapidity. Kylo's face was wet, plunged between your legs, his own elbows keeping your thighs spread open, hands at times holding your lips splayed out for him, other times going inside of you. Your own fingers always in contact with him, with his brawny arms, clammy palms, wavy hair. He would kiss them, now and again, even suck on them, and you'd feel the skillful lush tongue nesting your digit and along it the small metal ball from the bar that impaled the _lingual septum_. You would put them in your mouth, tasting his saliva and your secretions combined and he would return to it, biting and pulling your meaty _labia_ enclosed by his softly pressed teeth and then into his maw, licking, drooling, breathing on you. Capturing your clit and working it hard, no patience left, he just wanted to make you cum, two long, large digits fucking you as deep and as fast as he could go, his fist beating your pubic bone and the delicious sounds - the strong, quick hammering of skin, the abundant fluid leaking from your cunt, his possessed growls and your incongruous, desperate screams for him to fuck you more, to fuck you harder, to not stop as you orgasmed, spasming against his face and his unrelenting hand, all visible muscles bulging and tensing to both keep you under him and allow you some maneuvering room, still forcibly sucking on your swollen bud. Just as he disconnected from your thoroughly sopping heat, one of his paws stroke it painfully and without thinking, you launched onto the man, catching him unsuspectingly staring at your angrily red slit and pushing him clumsily but violently, jabbing his chest once, the second one being efficiently prevented, himself slapping your cheek after and capturing your wrists in his strong grip, jerking you up while you still fought to remain in your position, the titan easily manhandling you onto your stomach.

All you could think was how fortunate you were Kylo had removed his rings prior to going to bed.

"This how you wan' it? Is this how you wan' it?" He pushed your thighs apart with his knees, one hand lining up the huge cock with your entrance, the other one pressing your head down into the mattress, wheezed, breathy pleas covered by hair.

He could not have been any harder.

A ravishing tempo was immediately instituted, air leaving your lungs because it had no space within you.

"It'sss... how you like it-ah... izinit? Rrrruh!"

Barbaric hands gripped the flesh of your hips and ass resembling moldable clay gathered between his branching fingers, tugging your body and slamming into you, over and over again, ramming walls and reaping wails. Your upper limbs squirming at your sides, seeking to get ahold of his wrists, but Kylo kept swatting them away, eventually snatching them behind your back when he tired of the hassle, uprooting your torso from the comfortable platform and seizing you opposite his frame.

"Hap-py to be of service, whore? Humpf...", the raven locks brushed your shoulder, tickling as he approached your neck, the breath on your right ear and cheek leaving marks all across your chest.

"Ve-ry haaap-py, Ssssss-iiirrr," you whined.

"You sure? Doe-sn't quite look i-ttt. Show me then," suddenly he ceased his movements with a final thrust, letting go of your mid section and limbs and propelling you onto your face, forearms assuming a defensive posture to absorb the soft impact of physique on sheets. "Show me how much you like this... How much you need it."

You peered over your shoulder to him: a profoundly puffing, perspired brute with a mind so contorted and convoluted, truly extraordinary, asking you to validate him.

It felt longer, but within a few seconds you were positioning yourself yet again on all fours, reversing towards the tumescent, darkened shaft, grasping it from under yourself and leading it back inside of you. The man ran digits through his tresses and swept them off his features, saggy eyelids giving his eyes a sublime almond shape, captivated by the display of your _derrière_ and your strained pussy, perfectly plugged, common manifestation, nonetheless a splendid spectacle, every time.

Every single time.

Your hips swayed and he fought the impulse to grab them, even rest his hands on them, forcing himself to lean backwards, heel of palms supporting his frame, watching you bounce on his lap and leave a creamy ivory trail on his cock. The rhythm was never weakened, on the contrary - the compulsive sound of your bottom smacking against his thighs was being chased, the pummeling of your soon-to-be wounded vulva confusingly and simultaneously ignored and rejoiced in, with libidinous gripes and distressful moans. Parted lips on his quivering, slackened jaw expelled exhales and grunts, Kylo's breath catching as the pressure in his _scrotum_ spread through mighty legs and tight abdomen, seven seconds of contractions and expansions in the process of spewing his pearly white load deep into your snug cunt, two involuntary bumps of his loins causing a sharp, consistent pain to run through your organs.

His brain shut off for a moment, as if _Nirvāṇa_ had been attained.

His soul at peace.

Everything was crystal clear for about half a minute, during which you never refrained from the unfaltering impalement.

Arresting you in a tight hug, and in an _encore_ , the behemoth dragged you up to your knees and close to him, snaking an arm between your legs and rubbing the apex of your entrance while remaining motionless within you. His plush, flushed pout, at the time in a shade concocted with a blend of Indian red and _terracotta_ , was warm on your neck, planting feelings with saliva and reinforcing devotion with every suspire by the shell of your ear.

"Ren... No... Please... No... It hurts too much... Don't... Don't make me say it... Please..."

You had never used your safe word in all those years. Couldn't bring yourself to say it. It was as if you would think less of yourself and you were afraid he would too. And while the rational part of you knew how absurd that sounded... you just couldn't. And he knew, he knew you didn't want to use it, he saw many times before how you would not say it. You simply wouldn't! Your mind would block speech when in dangerous agony.

Kylo wouldn't have stopped if he hadn't been pounding you for five days straight - every chance he had, leaving you bruised, sore, inflamed, bleeding, desecrating every hole, ravaging your whole body, soothing you, cleaning you and patching you up at the end of every session. So with the aid of his dextral medial thigh, he towed your own lower limbs shut, the previously improper paw resting upon the curve of your hip. Slowly he slipped out of you and eased you down on your right flank, spooning and keeping you close, long, robust wing draping over your waist and locking his grip on your forearm, your eyes perusing the diverse hues on the adorned arm, safe with the protective tiger and snake, your soul rejuvenating homologous to the phoenix on his _deltoid_ , and all of them and both of you surrounded by sacred, struggling lotus.

Utmost beauty thriving in a muddy pond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, no. Just no, kids. Safe words are to be used, don't ever let it get to the point where your body stops reacting. Don't make me worry too much about you guys. You're smarter than that and you're smarter than me.  
> Second, that section was added right before posting, so... I hate it. Feel like I'm explaining too much. Anyway, there's a brief glance into disassociating and body/mind lockdown in Chapter 7: Inveterate - Part II  
> Third, yeah, let's not, my babies.
> 
> Lookie, lookie:  
> Ren's rings for the day, aka OUCH!: [here](http://tinyurl.com/kxqup37), [here](http://tinyurl.com/mtsjas7), [here](http://tinyurl.com/kzyxoa6) and [the bottom two](http://tinyurl.com/kq4cgyw) (I feel personally offended by that little gem on the top one, so no)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	43. Mundaneness

The coldest, loudest scream in the dead of the night. The kind that drains your blood and fills you with dread and heartbreak. Ren's torso shot up from the snug mattress in less than a blink of an eye, heart beating a thousand miles per hour - and yet, there you were, sleeping deeply and peacefully. As if you didn't just shrill in your dream, like you were dying, afraid of something. Your breathing was even, profound. Like nothing happened.

He would never get used to the night terrors. Weren't often, but there were periods. And there was nothing you could do. Was stress, anxiety, and the only way you would not feel those would be to die. And he knew how fond you were of that idea as it was. You didn't have a clue you had them, remembered nothing, felt nothing unusual upon waking up, until he told you three years ago when it happened one nightfall. Then you started feeling the guilt of bothering him, of scaring him, asking him to not stay over at your place. He'd rather take sleep terrors every night for the next sixty years. But he would never tell you that. Instead, he would lay back down and stare at you in the dark, making sure you were indeed alright, only closing his eyes when Morpheus claimed him once again, sometimes not at all. Moving one of his hands, he very slowly felt around for yours and held it.

 

*

 

You felt him rising and grabbing his phone and headphones from the nightstand on his side, then you doze off again. When you finally woke up and sat in bed, he was gone.

Ambling out of the chamber as you donned yourself with the oversized chunky knit sweater worn the previous day, you peeked out of the corridor to the kitchen and living room, leaning your face on the inverted corner of the separating wall as you overlooked the furniture, suspended memories like phantom marionettes on sentient strings. An unlit painting before you - years of closeness and carnal coetaneousness.

Turning in place, your bare feet took you to less visited parts of his apartment, a third bedroom Kylo had turned into a stripped office he didn't really spend time in, not much equipment aside from a sturdy desk in a dark wood finish and quilted leather chair, with straight-lined, basic bookshelves paneling an eighth of the cubicle, with a couple of statues bought during his travels, fairly the most used feature of that space considering that's where he kept all his books. Next to it and at the end of the hallway was a bathroom serving both vacant guest-rooms-turned-something-else and on the opposite side of it was the art room, his actual workstation, the tattered blotched sheets concealing compositions a platitude of painters throughout the ages. A vaporous snicker was your reaction before stepping towards the center of the setup. You admired the 40"x60" canvas still in its plastic wrap and wondered what would he paint on it. And if he would sell it or make it a personal project. You hesitated, but eventually got closer to the shrouded artwork, your digits rubbing against each other in formed fists before crouching and peeking under the fabric, lifting it as little as you could as if not to disturb the dust on it. There he had a penumbral, wintry landscape in strong shades of acrylic greened blue, blackened trunks of naked trees highlighted by icy fluff sticking to the bark, the light source a moon that couldn't be seen, beyond the 24"x36" painting. It was beautiful. Dark and lonely and beautiful. A second composition, smaller and used in the portrait direction, showed the feet of a toddler burying in dry soil clots, from the child's perspective, left big toe poking down into it, both the middle toe and right big and second toes' nails with dirt underneath. Ahead of them and slightly off-center was part of a cluster of Eminence purple pigmented _Wisteria frutescens_ among scattered and newly sprouted leaves of green grass. Hues so rich and forms so detailed, you couldn't get over the texture of the parched earth and the dull highlight of the child's toenails. Incredible.

Kylo's return was made known by the sound of the heavy front door shutting, causing you to suddenly spring upwards and cover his work, returning to the main area and finding him in the kitchen, oven preheating while the man rushed closing the pantry and measuring two tablespoons of a new bottle of apple cider vinegar into the food processor, while looking through plastic bowls into where he could crack two eggs and separate the yolks. You noticed a large paper bag on the island and walked to it, fingers carefully unrolling the top and making the material rustle, which indicated your presence to the man with a mission, who glanced back at you, adding coconut flour from a box he had also just opened and a quarter of a cup of honey to this mysterious batter he was creating.

"Hm," was all he grunted in acknowledgement.

"What are you doing?"

"Dessert," he scrolled through his phone, then quickly reached to the far right and retrieved the needed spices from the counter.

"Shouldn't we eat this while it's hot?"

"I wanna get this going while we eat, so it's pretty much ready when we're done," tipping a bowl with a can's worth of rinsed, cooked _garbanzo_ beans, he lastly locked the lid and turned on the appliance.

"Okay," you moved to get two plates, silverware and cups, observing him take a small clear container with blueberries out of the bag he brought in, "whatchu makin'?"

"Donuts."

"Why?"

He bit his lip. Dessert either meant special occasion or something had happened. And neither of you really celebrated things.

"Smelled freshly baked ones when I went to pick up the food and they looked really good! But then I felt guilty and did a quick search and decided that maybe a healthier option would be better," opening the processor, he dumped fifty percent of the fruit in and began incorporating it into the mixture.

"Hm. Is this a bad moment to say I don't eat chick peas?"

He froze.

"The fuck are you talking about? You eat hummus all the time!"

"Yes, but I shouldn't, with the diet changes I've decid-"

"Woman! Don't test me! I don't even like to bake!"

Ren was so serious, threatening spatula held by a rock hard fist. Yet, you couldn't help but press your lips together, in an insufficient attempt to curb the exploding laughter, a thousand apologies ensuing as you placed everything on the table and he turned his broad back on you to proceed with the recipe. Reverting to the kitchen, you fetched a jar of iced _karkadé_ from the fridge and stopped behind him, watching Kylo scoop the batter into the nonstick, six-cavity donut pan.

"Did I do something?"

Opening the oven, he placed it in the middle of the rack and closed it, then stared at you, stringy locks of obsidian hair escaping the careless constraint of the elastic band in the half updo he had going on.

"We just had a bad night."

"Hm," you eyes lowered, walking to the solid wood dining table with him following behind.

Distributing the cucumber, red and green leaf lettuce with green beans salad and two sunny side up eggs between both plates, Kylo bisected the large piece of multigrain sourdough bread with a bed of avocado mash, microgreens, tomato and red onion, neatly placing it on the side of your plate and and his. Glasses filled, you ate and talked about the restaurant he had gone to, apparently open for not that long yet, but being a nice addition to the community there, even giving a cool, urban art feel to a tiny section for little kids to play in while parents finish their meals. Scraping the guacamole from your portion of toast, you passed him the bread, the colossal man slotting it into his mouth and getting up on his feet to check the oven.

While he removed the pastries and placed them to cool off and rest, you gathered the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, refilling both glasses and restoring the pitcher to its rightful place in the refrigerator, Kylo then rinsing all utilized tools and finding crevices where to jam them in in the washer's trays and cleaning the food processor by hand.

You moved the glasses to his coffee table and disappeared into the hallway, using the restroom and allowing him enough time to pile the homemade, fluffy, blueberry donuts onto a squared acacia wooden dish and lean comfortably onto the chaise section of the El-shaped sofa. 

You reappeared holding his Martin signature edition sunburst acoustic guitar by the neck, sitting next to the outspread monumental entity, who composed himself, pushing his butt towards the back of the seat and accepting the instrument from you. Picking up a baked ring, you bit into it, analyzing the consistency and sweetness of the dough, offering it to Ren, who had slanted towards you to inspect the goods and chomped half of the entire thing, chewing as he delicately plucked the strings and tuned the guitar, shrugging as he evaluated the flavor. Wasn't bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visuals for this chapter:  
> Reader's sweater (choose your color, everything in my head is black): [here](http://tinyurl.com/lysz632)  
> Ren's home office desk: [here](http://tinyurl.com/n6ndpps)  
> Ren's home office desk chair: [here](http://tinyurl.com/n68corb)  
> Ren's home office bookshelves: [here](http://tinyurl.com/mas4tb7)  
> Ren's home office statues (even though I didn't refer to them explicitly: a replica of - [Wenchang Wang](http://tinyurl.com/m6s39bx), [Shiva and Parvati](http://tinyurl.com/kwrfy4c) and [Osiris](http://tinyurl.com/lng6bu4)  
> Wisteria frutescens (American Wisteria; just cause): [cluster](http://tinyurl.com/mg4qnmu) and [tree](http://tinyurl.com/n4b6lht)  
> Ren's dinning table: [here](http://tinyurl.com/kskbv3u) (table only)  
> Ren's dinning chairs (since we're at it): six of [these](http://tinyurl.com/kmzd3s7)  
> Food mentioned: [salad and eggs](http://tinyurl.com/kn8xxdf), [avocado mash on sourdough](http://tinyurl.com/n8m2ebv) and [blueberry chickpea donuts](http://tinyurl.com/kff4os5)  
> Ren's guitar: [here](http://tinyurl.com/l7u4xzv)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	44. Inanity

Kylo's left elbow was on his knee, sitting on the couch as he cradled almost an entire side of his face with his huge hand, fingertips resting spread out over his mouth, nose and under his eyes, poutiest-looking boy ever, reading the latest information on neuroticism, delayed gratification, sexual compulsion and perversion and death drive, scrolling on the USB mouse, the website's brightness glaring and bouncing off the paleness of his _cutis_. He could hear you lightly walking towards him, the soles of your feet making a faint sticky sound on the light grayed oak floor. Soon, you entered his peripheral vision field through the right, corneas shifting to the extreme of that same side as his eyebrows rose, seeing you in his caliginous living room in the middle of the night, wearing a long sleeved, white cotton t-shirt and nothing else, fists covered by said lengthy sleeves, while your hair looked as messy as ever. Moving his head in your direction, he looked you over a couple of times, two pouty kids.

"What's wrong?"

His saliva bubbled up at the first word, pulling his lips inside his mouth as he waited for an answer, digits clasping, sunken in between his legs, standing a bit straighter.

"My boobs really hurt."

He stared at them behind the smooth fabric, then returned to your face.

There was nothing you could do.

There was nothing he could do.

But that scene was still playing.

Finally, he stretched out his Eastern arm, palm upwards, and you walked towards him, whom held your much smaller hands in his, making them clap using his own.

"What do you wanna do? Want a saline bath?"

You let your skull tumble forth, sighing as you thought, Kylo using your palms to cover his eyes.

"Yeeesss," you answered towards the ceiling, the man returning from forged, temporary blindness with an exaggeratedly joyous and surprised look.

He sprung to his feet, smacked your butt cheek and marched inside.

"Shut it off, please, I'll draw the bath."

Suddenly silly and in a good mood.

Bending over his laptop, you closed the five tabs he had open, saved something he was writing before clicking it out, set it to turn off and unplugged it, finishing the last sip of what tasted like lemon soda, rinsing the glass and putting it in the dishwasher.

In his bathroom, Kylo had turned on the faucet and plugged the concrete tub's drain, getting out of his light grey, straight-legged sweats and looking in the mirror above the sink, inspecting his piercings and his scars under the tungsten halogen bulbs - the large tissue growth on his shoulder had felt tighter throughout the day, consistent, nagging discomfort. He took a leak while waiting, mind drifting away to the day he got them, when unbeknownst you slapped his ass out of the threatening guilt party and made him miss.

"Now _you_ clean it."

"Not my fault you were unprepared," you gathered a wad of toilet paper and wiped the splash on the bowl border.

"Not my fault you became a microscopic ninja," done, he shook his dick and squeezed it, lifting your shirt and wiping it on your midriff.

"Hey. If I was microscopic, I would've gone up your pee hole."

"Against the current?"

"Against the current."

"Bold! You wouldn't make it though," he lazily kept tugging your top skywards until it went over your head and off your limbs.

"I'm also not making it in my current state... or size... or whatever."

"You're making my dick hard..."

"That's... not that hard."

"It'll get there."

"I mean it's not that difficult."

"Shouldn't that be flattering?"

"Sure, if I didn't know your normal setting is 'boner on'... I don't even understand how you manage to have enough blood flowing through the rest of your body to oxygenate your brain and make that work," you drew small circles with your index directed at his thinker.

"Ha. Haha. Haha," he laughed dryly.

"You don't have a comeback..."

"That was actually mean."

"Yeah, but it was also kinda self-deprecating, so I guess we're even."

"You're in a surprisingly good mood for being on your period..."

It might've been offensive if you didn't know him. And if he didn't know you. He turned the water off, sprinkling sea salt in it.

"It's bouncing off of you. You're in a good mood too," you picked under your nails, ogling the deity before you.

"I guess. I didn't realize it," leering at you, his eyes stopped at your cunt, forearm dipping in the hot water, "take that out."

You sat on the toilet and fingered the thread, but before you proceeded with anything he asked to see.

"There's... not much to see. It's ending."

He shrugged, crouching in between your parted knees, watching you pull the blue string and your entrance slowly expand to let the auburn stained cotton bullet out, immediately returning to its original closure while you disposed of the grimed tampon.

You felt fascinated by his fascination - natural, private, visceral things that intrigued and hypnotized the man, permanently expanding his erudition and pursuing pleasure. And as a concomitant person of letters and neurodivergent, you lauded his hypersensitive curiosity and savored being the afflatus and impetus to his creation and cultivation. Even if your mind couldn't acknowledge your worth. He did. 

Submerging the stack of skulls on his calf, clear leg following, he gesticulated for you to get in, sitting adequately and swiftly wrapping his hair up, securing it with the stretchy hairband always on his wrist, you replicating his actions with one of the spare elastics he kept in the inner left drawer of the sink counter, then stepping into the bath.

Always too hot. For either of you. But old habits die hard, or so they say.

Yet neither of you even considered reforming your patterns, both showering in scalding conditions that should be painful, however weren't, since before you met and continuing to do so after.

People don't change. They adapt.

He adapted to your temperature and you adapted to his. Excessively hot.

You sat between his reddening legs, conceding for him to rinse your upper back with the scorching fluid and feeling the thick fingertips digging and rubbing the numerous myofascial trigger points on your neck and shoulders, letting your head sag forward, breathing in tandem with his massage, complaining along the occasional acute throb.

"You always have so many knots..."

"Hm! Like you're a pile of mush... That's rich."

"No, but... you know you became quite sedentary these last three years...", he let it die, "I'll work these out in the room, can't do much here."

"You don't have to, they'll be back tomorrow."

"Eh, gives me some practice."

"Practice for what? 'You trying to be a _masseur_?"

"No," he gently pulled you back by the arms till you leaned against his chest, plump lips by your ear like Psilocybin, "I enjoy rubbing you down."

His hands immersed in the water and caressed your body as they moved upwards, from your thighs to your stomach, housing your breasts in his palms and fondly compressing their fullness, your own meager paws resting upon the firmness of his upper legs, nails scraping the inside of the limbs. And all the while, extremities working your flesh, trickling briny solution onto your chest, cavernous warmth dancing on your nape, titillating tongue traveling about the _sternocleidomastoideus_ , smearing kisses and whispering his exhales, saliva swallowing, throaty ticks, coexisting relaxation and arousal. 

Until your fingertips shriveled like prunes, Kylo holding your hands in his, two pairs of palms facing the both of you, a shiver of a strange ache at the sight, agonizing incertitude, desolated longing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few visuals for this chapter:  
> Ren's apartment flooring (except bathrooms): [here](http://tinyurl.com/mpvf3ql)  
> Ren's sweats: [here](http://tinyurl.com/mkfsfkn)  
> Ren's bathroom counters: [here](http://tinyurl.com/m5vktr9) (except the sink is also in concrete, no hidden TV on the mirror and I already mentioned how his towels are purple; also, some clutter on them, because, you know, he LIVES there)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	45. Umbrageous

It rained heavily. The sound of the thick, icy streams pouring from the clouds above and landing onto concrete, metal and plastic was almost deafening, so loud that it roughly drowned the echoing noise produced by it hitting your umbrella. Your footsteps became slow as soon as you abandoned the train car, no longer having to hurry and step out of someone else's way or risk being bumped into by those who were about to start the graveyard shift, you were sure.

You had had an angering phone call with your mother earlier that day. It had started as always - she missed you terribly, wished you would call more often, talked about what she had been doing, about the people back home, those who had died, those who had been born. Then it somehow sidetracked to someone you didn't know, who by the sounds of it could be mentally struggling, and all of a sudden she was making crass comments and you were appallingly asking how she could say what she was saying and, next thing you know, you were seeing nothing but red. No matter how much she loved you, she would never understand. She wasn't able to. That had been a reminder of why you needed to love her from afar.

And there you were, about to step into his building after tears and thoughts and barren attempts at working.

The porter was nice, they were all invariably nice, and you gave the young man your nicest smile in return. It wasn't his fault you felt like less than zero. Taking your furled umbrella dripping at your side, you scanned the token to call the elevator and waited, staring absorbedly beyond the middle-splitting doors, barely registering the moment when they parted for you.

He was laying on the couch, watching a documentary on Manueline architecture when he heard the keychain clanging outside his front door and held his gaze towards it as soon as the key was inserted, twisting and allowing for the solid wood to reveal you, who lifted your eyes at him once, took off your wet boots and drenched socks and kept walking past the kitchen and into the narrow corridor, only stopping inside his bedroom's bathroom and placing your umbrella against the shower wall. Kylo continued watching the footage, TV remote atop his unclothed chest, hands crossed over his stomach. Only when your cheeks heated did you realize how cold you were. Coat and soaked jeans removed, you hung them spread out on the tub and stripped your thin sweater and spaghetti strap top as you moved to his room, dropping bra over the chair by the dresser, panties on the floor.

Then remained standing there.

He watched till the following commercial break, then set the rest to record and turned the television off, picked up his dirty plate, drank the last of his water and placed everything in the kitchen's sink. Unable to hear you, he trekked after the quietness, finding you standing by the bed, waiting vulnerable, bare, lost in nonexistence. The giant disappeared into the restroom, where he used it and rinsed genitals and hands after, undressing his plaid pajama pants and returning to the room.

There, Ren looked at you.

You didn't need to be hurt; you needed to be held.

He took the three remaining steps to be closely next to you and carefully placed his huge hand on your upper back, the feeling of his rugged palm making you jolt like an electric current ran through you, spiking your breathing and sending shivers throughout your body, all pores visibly tightening with the discharge. Gripping your shoulders, Kylo turned you to meet him, your eyes set somewhere on his abdomen, when in reality you could see nothing but hazy, blurred shapes and colors beyond the thick, salty curtains that spilled down your cheeks as you shook your head unmindfully. It wasn't because of what had happened that morning, it was never because of merely one thing - but perhaps that had been the overflowing drop in your perpetually brimming cup. Everything was always so... _much_. He observed you, head tipped to the side so he could see your face.

You climbed onto the bed and laid flat, gazing at the ceiling. He looked you from head to toe, pondering on what he should do. Then rounded the platform, laid next to you, imitating the same straight pose and remained like so for a while, staring upwards at the ceiling as well. Whistling wind was heard outside his windows and the pattering of rain drops against the glass was most welcoming in its hollow, rhythmic comfort. The rear of his index and middle fingers touched the outside of your thigh before finding and holding your right hand. His left foot hooked inside your leg and pulled it apart from the other one, carefully rolling his entire body to top you, weight sustained on his elbows, increasing it slowly, allowing it to crush you. With one knee, Kylo separated your thighs even further, his eyes at no time leaving your features, your own focusing on him. He wasn't hard. You felt his flesh on you and, mutely reaching in between your bodies, grabbed his soft dick and began caressing it, jerking the whole length as it started getting harder. Both your expressions gave nothing away - completely quiet, simply staring searchingly at each other. Lifting his hips, he consented for the erection to move from the initial place by your opening to the top of your slit, making your actions less labored and interrupting your hand's work when his member was fully erect, his own digits guiding it to rub and glide along the four cardinal points of your labia, concurrently making you wet and spreading that same wetness. Calmly, he nudged your entrance, perhaps teasing, perhaps ensuring you were ready. Kylo pushed into you, little by little, seeing the effort you made as you failed to keep your eyebrows from furrowing and your lips from slightly twitching, feeling your walls spasming as they tightened and relaxed around him, even after he filled you completely. Shifting his posture to lay more on his left, he placed a paw flushed with the side of your neck and let it trail down along your angles and curves until it rested and squeezed your breast and still the hazel pools remained on you. He insisted on it, applying languid strokes to your chest, overpowering _volar_ and tantalizing fingertips that sunk in and dragged the fullness of your boob, your eyes narrowing as you surrendered to the sensation, your digits customarily pushing the licorice locks of hair that partially shrouded his face, uncovering ineffable spots and stripes that were so bewitching. A fresh tear dripped from the corner of your right eye.

"Everything hurts...", you murmured, clenching your jaw to control the shaking of your mandible.

He winced in distressful communion.

"I know."

Your whole face contorted as the windows to our soul shut, strong, shallow inhales becoming stuffed sniffles. Quarter of a minute passed when you looked to the window at your right, simply because you needed something to behold that wouldn't judge you for your fragility. Kylo didn't and would never, and although he was the only person to see you cry, you still couldn't help repudiating that truth at times.

The man rolled to the center of the bed and took you with him, keeping one of your legs open and himself inside of you, arm fitting under your neck, the other pulling your waist close to him. He shimmied deeper and didn't move anymore, letting you cry while he gently rubbed his Roman nose, chapped lips and ticklish chin on your own forehead and nose, assuaging amorousness.

Soon you were asleep.

It kept raining for a long while, developing into a small storm by the early hours of the morning, moon still high up in the blackened sky, no other source of light when a thunder stroke close on the block, rapid heartbeats and labored breaths as you were ripped from the lulling arms of Hypnos. Your figures moved and searched for each other, returning to the original position of your embrace. Salacious, somnolent fingers stroked and squeezed up his burly, delineated chest, his own thickset digits unfetteredly feeling for your entrance, tips rubbing it, dipping in pairs till the sound of the rain outside was no longer taking the spotlight in your mind, cochlea thenceforth perceiving the fluctuating squelching tempo. Your thigh lifted higher at your flank, that familiar stretch your pussy endured every time his cock filled you in welcome in the midst of drowsiness. 

Minimal whir of sheets caused a muffled, uninterrupted crepitating sonority by the ears reposing on the pillows, heated exhales, at first expelled by the nostrils, then superseding your mouths, respired fixations that impacted and caressed skin and soul, stale breath and all. Lackadaisical, your eyes opened and identified the outline and shadow of his mane and dextral shoulder, the dim moonlight at his back highlighting the lateral of his semblance clear from cascading tresses, your swing almost arresting as you aimed to notice his eyelashes in the darkened place. Your head perked up and for a second you distinguished the following of Kylo's fatigued eyes, before your sweltering lips met the tender epidermis along his _collum_ and a heavier sigh flared from him. He let you revere his neck however you wanted to and even turn over him, sequentially, oscillating voluptuary frame grinding against the imposing anatomy that swiftly swiveled, subjugating your motion. 

The omnipotence of Ren's hands on you, pushing and clutching and fumbling with legs, hips, breasts, as lenient gifts conferred through unuttered invocations to his omniscience divinity, always more and never enough to stitch ventricles to atria, body to earth, soul to him. Unyielding red string connected your ankles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solo visual:  
> Ren's pajama pants (which he doesn't even wear to sleep): [here](http://tinyurl.com/m4hw3s5)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	46. Esurient

As soon as you heard the clacking noises of the retracting bolts on your mortise lock, you put your phone down and scurried to the door, gesturing with impatience for Kylo to enter your studio quickly, bouncing on the balls of your feet like you really had to go. Abruptly dropping the items he packed, the statuesque man was only given enough time to tug the cord and remove one shoe with the heel of the opposite foot, your fingers already pushing his knitted sweater up, while you pulled him to the couch, yourself backtracking and banging right calf on the border of the coffee table, a contained yet angered curse flying out of you.

"You took your time!", shoving him onto the linen sofa, you undid his shoelaces and pulled his other sneaker off along with his striped socks, while he unbuttoned his jeans.

"Didn't know you were waiting for me. I didn't tell you I was coming today!" he finally yanked off his top and flung it somewhere, lifting his butt off the cushions to let you pull pants and boxers down his legs.

"Oh, you're coming alright," straightening up on your feet as the lazy _paronomasia_ was out, you removed the oversized t-shirt you wore with nothing else and untied your hair, all in a single movement, before kneeling between his feet, "you could've let me know... I wouldn't be so... anxious, I guess," resting your outward-pointing elbows over his hips, you took a hold of his flaccid shaft with one hand and cupped his testicles with the other one, massaging both with different motions.

"Anxious? You're horny," his fingers brushed all your hair to one side, the large left paw touching your mirrored upper arm and impelling you forward to him.

"Horny because I was anxious to get _this_ ," you evidenced, squeezing his firming sex with both fists, making him hiss softly through clenched teeth, prior to standing on your knees and letting his hands grope, twist and pull at your breasts.

"You could've texted me," he felt his skin erupting in a million peaks when you kissed his chest and let go of his sac to drag your nails down his stomach.

"I didn't want to bother you," you whispered close to his pout, then settling between his knees once again and shoving half of his huge rod in your mouth and starting to bob along the length.

"Yyyou wouldn't bother me... You... should text me. Next time... this happens," he watched you slobber all over the head and his balls, alternatingly sucking.

"But," you got up from the rug on your floor and straddled him, shoving your boobs completely in his face as you tried to aim his erection at your dripping cunt, Kylo's lips capturing your left nipple and sucking and biting on it while you did so, "what if you're unavailable? It has happened before... Shiiiiiit, fffuck-ahhh," you slid down the monstrous member.

"Well... what did you do?" one hand on the left side of your rib cage, stretched out digits with the thumb on your sternum, and one on your ass gave you a fictitious sense of being guided as you began riding him.

"I... ignored it... for a while-uh. I triiied. But then I... got ohhh-ff," bracing yourself on his torso, you hooked your feet over his thighs behind your butt and pressed on your ankles, undulating your hips, his hands having moved to the fullness of your rear.

"Who... gave you... permission... for... that?" he asked, smacking your flesh with explosive intensity with every paused segment, "you can be... such-hmm... such an undisci-plined bitch sometimes," you paused with only the head of his cock inside of you.

"Hmm, are you pretending not to like knowing I rub myself all day long and hump just about anything thinking about _this_?", you stared down your nose at him, your muscles contracting and squeezing the large glans within you as emphasis, Kylo's jaw flexing and his eyes closing as he enjoyed a second and a third time, fingers gripping your ass, "are we pretending you don't love it when I disobey you?"

"Hmm," his sight lowered to your belly button, then your slit and he kept being silent and massaging your bottom, the hooded, chocolate melt blend of his irises lifting to your face, always something hanging between the both of you - at that moment, everything was fogged by pulsing hunger.

You resumed your movements, increasing their speed, palms holding against his pecs, an almost sobbing grimace, "Ren... Please... pound me... just... fucking pound me!"

All of a sudden, without another word and holding your ass to keep himself inside, he swept you to the cushions on his left, repositioning on top of you, your left knee folded up and his grip forceful on it, causing it to flush with your arm, his own right leg propping him for improved angle as he started ramming you.

"You're terribly demanding to-day... 'The fuck you think you are?"

"Ahhh-n in-sa-tiabbb-... An insatiable whore!"

He arrested all movement, apart from yanking your hands off of him and slapping you multiple times with both hands, while you struggled to defend yourself.

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? Huh?"

You stopped shielding yourself and let him strike you.

"I'm sorry, Master Ren," a smack on the cheek, "I am an insatiable whore, Master Ren," another blow to the opposite side.

"You are, aren't you? Do you fuck everyone you can, slut?"

"No, Sir. I do not, Master Ren."

"No? So to whom does this belong to?", a draconian pinch and pull of your sinistral outer labia pointed out the object of his sentence.

Biting down the dull pain, you answered, "to you, Sir. That pussy is yours, Master Ren."

Pleased with your answer and feeling quite presumptuous, he took your forearms and pulled you to sit up, your limbs instantly circling his nape when freed and as he held and lifted you by the legs, abandoning the limitations of the living area. Less than ten steps away, Kylo halted.

"No one else should enter you. You're mine to use."

"Yes, Master Ren."

"You're mine," came out a whisper before kissing your clavicle, the same words being muttered against your skin, the prodigious male reestablishing the brutal pattern into your tucked body in his arms and where he stood.

Your arms clung to his neck, cradling his head against you. There wasn't much you could do, but to try and keep still, in place, while he depravedly destroyed you. Amidst the turbulence within, ranging from spewed screams and silent suffering, you found enough cohesion to ask if you could climax, receiving a growl in response that you had learned to interpret as an assenting answer. Diffident for the sake of gravity, acceleration and the force, this one with both magnitude and direction, which could all influence the motion of both your anatomies, you vacated one of the sides of his nape, arm descending in between your trunks as it incited the acme of your obsessive, frenzied lechery.

"Aaahhhmmm! Master Ren... p-please don't ssstahhhp! Please don't stop, don't stop, please, p-... plea-ea-ea-ea-ease!"

He didn't. He wouldn't.

Hammering you as hard as he could in that position, he allowed you to orgasm first and still caught the last seconds of your high, steering the fusion of your bodies to the stripe of wall between massive windows by some of the plants, pressing you against it for support, sinking in you three more times before spilling all his pleasure in you, right foot boosting him further in, foreheads pressed together, your trembling fingers pushing some of the raisin black strands away from his nose and lips.

"One more? Please," you whispered opposite his mouth, discerning the very slow tempo he sustained, going in and out of you, sliding in the slosh of sperm and slick, "please... One more while you're hard..."

You guided yourself through chafed aches, inflicting a steady standard of stimulus and he collaborated, providing the flurrying feeling of fullness and reciting raunchy reflections by your ear, panting in a prolonged, coerced delirium, needing nothing more but to make you seizure again.

Kylo's iron grip on your sprawled thighs cemented them to the restored, yet still faded apple red brick wall, his Western cheek on your jaw and your upper limbs still fastened around his head while the concluding quakes dissipated. At snail's pace, clamping holds were allayed, your back side detaching from the building's facet, extremities loosening up, Samson releasing your legs as your frames disunited, your feet then on the ground next to his, both of you still joined by clutched forearms in case your knees faltered.

Eventually, you moved from the panoramic windows and he gestured to close the roller, blackout, graphite-hued shades, halting and, in a split second, it caused you to jerk your head in his direction, then follow the focus of his tense look - to one of the buildings across the street, fourth floor.

A person had been watching.

Everything ceased, suspended in time for a hot minute. No one moved.

Spontaneously, you passively waved. Kylo lowered the screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bringing you a Physics class with this chapter. You're welcome. :P  
> Also, slaves gone rogue. Aaannnd Ren (NOT) inconspicuously getting some answers.
> 
> Visuals, follow me:  
> Ren's shoes: [here](http://tinyurl.com/lewttvj)  
> Ren's clothes: [sweater](http://tinyurl.com/lkrloo6), [jeans](http://tinyurl.com/maeu46p), [striped socks](http://tinyurl.com/l9bbab6) and [underwear](http://tinyurl.com/kzrxsvj) (shocker, his underwear isn't black... this time)  
> Some of Reader's plants, yo: one of these [Yucca plants](http://tinyurl.com/l3ouroe), one of these [Kentia palms](http://tinyurl.com/mg4hc8x) and one of these [snake plants](http://tinyurl.com/ks8e252)  
> Reader's window shades (think I never showed them): [here](http://tinyurl.com/kwhgqlb)  
> Reader's studio walls (never showed exact shade or whatever): [here](http://tinyurl.com/kjn9v9w) (and WALLS ONLY)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	47. Domiciliary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time I post I'll be on my way to Japan, so excuse the off-sync posting schedules, who knows, perhaps, yeah.

Bradbury's _Fahrenheit 451_ was noisily closed and a forcefully expelled puff of air directed to the rebellious lock that insisted on falling every time the hair was whipped to that side would only momentarily keep it in place. Was getting too long again, but it felt like it had been trimmed just last... January. It was time.

Before he lost the thought and will to leave his apartment for the next couple of days, Kylo extended a lengthy, decorated arm bridging the space between his dead tired body and the bedside table where his mobile rested and sent a short, inquisitive text to the girl who had been cutting his hair for the past decade, Carmella. They had met at a photoshoot where she was assisting the head makeup artist and he was modeling a tragic pair of stained black wash Tripp pants and a long sleeve mesh top, which fortunately and unfortunately weren't as dreadful back then. After they chatted for a while, he learned she was attending beauty school and her passion was hair and that was how the match made in heaven came to be. Not without some bumps in the road though: styles too cropped for his liking, experiments with highlights and, about a year and a half prior, dye. Preceding the latter adventure, he shut her off for months without end regarding lightening his mane, eventually agreeing to let Carm infuse the crap out of his tresses with pigment without discoloring them first. The result was an acceptable one, he concluded, and for weeks his hair would display a dark blue glint whenever it caught the sunlight, yet remained completely inconspicuous indoors. Still, he had warned her not to even think of guilt tripping him in any shape or form for he was done with creative hairstyling endeavors - from then on and for the following five, maybe ten years, nothing but organic, gentle ingredients, only allowing her to dust his tips and even barely point a hairdryer in his direction.

At the time being, Carmella worked at a designer hair salon up in Manhattan and hardly had any free slots ever since she started that job, often taking him either on lunch break or more often at home, occasions on which he would hang out for a while, enjoy a homecooked meal by her fantastic _saucier_ wife, Quinne, and catch up. For her, big bucks and ultimate experience meant no free time and she was grabbing that chance while she could.

The woman replied, having managed to shove him between the second to last appointment and her closing client, a couple of days from then. Kylo messaged back, thanking her, and considered the obligations and errands for that week - meaningless little nothings, so many times proving to be too much.

He rubbed his weary eyes with one hand, passing the pads of his digits over his irritating scar, but the more he touched it, the worse it became, like the itch fed on his scratching. It became painful regularly, unpredicted strong sharp stabs. But anything was better than when it would get infected - for no apparent reason, sometimes by something as normal as skin oils or a rare, random blemish, the entire keloid swelling and throbbing in pain like he could feel it from the front of his skull to the very back of it. Luckily, such exasperating moments were extremely scarce and a cocktail of painkillers was his usual friend. Rolling and stretching from one margin of the bed to the opposite minimalist nightstand, Kylo picked up the glass jar of moisturizer from its habitual spot and daubed some over the bothersome cicatrix, hydrating the thin epidermis and carrying over its full extent down to his right shoulder, massaging the protruding, textured lines.

When he checked the phone it was one forty-seven in the A.M.. He had managed to read an extra chapter before his eyelids began feeling far too heavy, laying the book by his side on the small surface next to his cell, this one with random alarms always set to wake him up throughout the morning, in case the entire night had been spent awaken and exhaustion would have him fall into its arms by the sunrise hours. Kylo turned off the lights, tried to float after sleep. But there were those eyes. And the curvature of that spine, the crease of that ass with the bloody, bruised imprints of his hand and the fresh sunken marks of his teeth, all so vividly playing in the dark behind the closed curtains of his soul. Adonis breathed deep and slowly. Roughly, he formed a fist around the hardening shaft and tugged on it for less than a minute, forcing the quick arrival to that peak and ceasing all movement, clenching muscles, his entire body trembling as he shut that stage off, shallow, labored breaths through his royal nose like an angry, mighty bull. But he was fatigued and couldn't bring himself to play the chasing game of edging, so he waited until he felt stable and recommenced, harder and faster, dextral paw feeling around for the brushed stainless steel tissue box close to the table lamp of the same material from where he plucked two soft rectangles. As Kylo neared the point of no return, his feet sufficiently kicked back the bedding for his hand to loosely envelop the glans, while the opposite one pulled and squeezed his member, the warm ejaculate springing from him and into the wad of paper, an extra sheet of tissue required to wipe residual spillage, everything being balled up and carelessly thrown on the ground. He would worry about it the following morning.

 

*

 

With few tosses and turns during that night, the brightness from the break of dawn was enough to rouse him, no need for ringing alarms. Dawdling in the king size bed, he blinked sleep away, unfolding his long limbs and yawning, trimmed fingernails grazing his scalp. He snuffled, skirting the inside of his nostrils with the tips of his index and thumb, wiggling the curved barbell in his seven-year-pierced septum and sniffing again, unintentionally biting the right side of his lower lip in a hazy consideration of where his soul could be, fighting the propensity to hide under the covers from the world and hate it, ignoring it. 

More alive after a few minutes, he felt it, looked down. Dispensable, yet he did. And there it was - morning wood like clockwork.

Kylo deliberated, turning his head to the phone. He waited it out, allowing for the blood surge to dissipate and got up to use the bathroom and start his day with three types of crunches and two types of push ups instead. 

That day, tease and denial was done well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren is my keloidal buddy through pain and itch!  
> Anyone else went through a skater pants phase? I did...  
> Physically healthy, sex addict boy's penis is an enabler.
> 
> Les visuals:  
> Ren's Tripp (skater) pants: [front](http://tinyurl.com/lxfgy7j) and [back](http://tinyurl.com/kj8sjwh)  
> Ren's mesh top: [here](http://tinyurl.com/my5su5k)  
> Ren's bedroom tissue box: [here](http://tinyurl.com/k7ajstu)  
> Ren's bedside lamps: two of [these](http://tinyurl.com/lgh6gel)  
> Ren's septum curved barbell: [here](http://tinyurl.com/kv82b43)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	48. Covetousness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On my way to Japan, folks. Once again, apologies for off-sync schedules, I'll try and post at the usual times.

It was a spearmint starlight wrapper. He had it in between his fingers and was messing with it - smoothed it, shifted it, scrunched it, squeezed it. A pleasantly triggering sound for you. He had no clue. The candy in his mouth scraped his teeth whenever he switched sides, every now and again, a low, hollow sonority if it happened with his lips parted. His gaze seemed set on the wrapper but it was far beyond it.

Everything else was peaceful: you typed away on your phone laying stomach down on the blue couch and he sat splayed out on the pine green loveseat, left leg stretched along, right one propped on the coffee table ahead of him, a tablet facing down across his lap. Maybe he was thinking about what he was reading, maybe he got distracted. Or perhaps the wrapper was just that interesting.

Matt bit and chewed on the shrunken sweet and removed his glasses, setting them and the piece of plastic on the surface by his foot, rubbing his orbits as he yawned and sunk further into the seat, his head leaned back, eyes closing.

You paused and mused at the display.

"Let's swap couches."

"Huh?" he opened his eyes and looked in your direction.

Rising onto your feet, you moved towards him, hands open by your hips.

"Lay down on this one, it's bigger," you tipped your head to the sofa you had been on, advancing over the leg leaning on the furniture and pulling the one resting on the cushion to the ground, as you made way to perch your bottom next to him, "c'mon, you'll be more comfortable."

He grunted.

"Hardly."

"It has a whole extra... butt-cushion... measure. It'll make a difference."

"I don't wanna move... I didn't come here to sleep anyway..."

"But you're obviously tired."

"Too many... early flights. Not..." he yawned as if on cue, "enough sleep... don't get paid enough for this shit... No, I do..."

"Alright, but switch. You'll be better there."

With his eyes still closed, the bogus blonde grunted again and whined, moving to place his head on your lap and hooking his knees over the sofa's right arm.

"Don't you fart on my couch," you joked.

"Too late."

"Oh no..."

"I farted on your couch the day you got it! Wait... The day I came here after you got it. So, _years_ ago!"

"Thank you. I'm glad you're giving me that input now."

"You' welcome!" he offered, nonchalantly, prior to rubbing his head on your upper legs, "you're soft..."

"You're sleepy."

He nodded.

"Just sleep with me," came out whispered. Took him almost three seconds to shoot up from your thighs, eyes blinking wide open, expressive hands adopting a clear, explanative albeit defensive gesticulation, "you know what I mean! Rest a little, take a catnap, _siesta_!"

You leaned against the left arm of the sofa, hand combing your hair and cheek then resting onto your open palm, observing Matt as he stumbled through definitions.

"Yeah, I know what you meant."

"Of course," his eyes lowered, directed at his own lap and restive paws, short nails scratching the sides of his digits, "of course you knew what I meant..."

Placidly, you scanned him, his discomfort, unease. He breathed through blood surged lips, unnaturally refusing to even glance at you, picking up his glasses and the tablet where he was reading from, clearing up his throat, simultaneous frown and lip press.

"Matty," a delayed response from him took his chest to inflate twice before looking your way, "let's sleep."

You got up, took about four steps in your bed's direction and halted, flashing back to his standpoint, big mouth agape, the thick, short fibers of his eyebrows forming a perplexed high angle on the center of his wrinkly forehead.

"... What?"

"Bolt the door and come to bed."

"Uhhh... Okay." he hesitated, fumbling with the small screen before setting it down on the coffee table, sprung to his feet and strode to the entrance of your studio, where he hooked and fastened both chain and clasp, a hushed, airy exhale for composure flowing past his lips.

You contemplated him walk back to you, combing his curls with large digits, while his eyes couldn't seem to decide if they should remain on the ground or consider you. Matt stopped at arm's length.

"Take off your sweater," curving his fingers on the neckline, he stretched it slightly and pulled the entire knit over his head, not knowing what to do with it after, you taking it from him, folding it in half and throwing it onto your Davy's gray-hued, linen club chair, "take off your pants."

Pulling the tail of his _bistre_ brown leather belt out of the loop, the metallic buckle clinked and it brought on a weighty tension over you, your vision involuntarily averting to your windows along the rough walls, your close friend ridding himself of the slim fit burgundy chinos and standing in a black crew neck undershirt and underwear of the same tone, with highlighting monastral blue stitching. Not that you had looked that intently...

"What side do you want?" you questioned.

Matt removed his spectacles and ogled you, shrugging, watching you make the instinctive decision, unknown to him, of taking Ren's side to yourself, tramping over the massive, low mattress and kneeling on it. He paced forth, crouched by the low surface next to your bed and set his glasses atop it, sitting on the cot's border as you pointed out the possibility of getting under the covers if he so preferred. Peeking over his shoulder to assess your position - on top of the duvet - he then pushed the sheets back and laid in bed with the fabric fence sundering you, yet facing each other.

You smiled, softly.

"Better?"

He nodded.

"Good. Now we can nap," sentencing, your eyes closed and you pressed your face into the pillow in a hug.

The tall man regarded your features as they relaxed, how your cotton clothed shoulder shrouded your chin, mouth and half of your nose; your left knee coming closer to him, elevated at your side in search of a comfortable position, legs fully enveloped in tight, stretchy yoga pants.

Matt's scintillating coffee-colored peepers shut, a deep, internal sigh emitted through his nostrils in the act of pursuing tranquility. The neighbors were inaudible, the traffic outside was muffled and not much, but still he couldn't relax, an antsiness dilating in his chest and in his gut. He blinked and didn't move an inch, watching you doze. You opened your eyes straight at him.

"Shhhiiiiii-t..." the sizable male shuddered in a frightened state.

"'M sorry. Can't sleep?"

"No. I'm tired but," he shook his head in dismissal, "go back to it, I'll catch up."

You snorted a chuckle. He'll catch up, like it's a race.

"'There anything I can do?"

A meager blow from the freckly Roman nose combined with a swallowed swig of spit, his pale right arm withdrawing from the coziness of the comforter, tender, balmy fingertips brushing the bristles of your brow, sweeping the seditious strands of hair from their spot over your shoulder and you, complaisant, tilting into it.

_"What am I doing?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiet... now it's time for ASMR Matt... those are dangerous waters.
> 
> Visuals:  
> Candy (for the boos who don't know): [here](http://tinyurl.com/ku8m48j)  
> Reader's loveseat (can't recall if I showed it before): [this model](http://tinyurl.com/kwcn4b9), but in [this color and fabric](http://tinyurl.com/lxb2vzs)  
> Matt's sweater: [here](http://tinyurl.com/mlrhbtg)  
> Reader's club chair (cause I mentioned it before): [here](http://tinyurl.com/mtrtkuz)  
> Matt's belt: [here](http://tinyurl.com/mbtg8h8)  
> Matt's pants: [here](http://tinyurl.com/n6lz7y3)  
> Matt's undergarments: [undershirt](http://tinyurl.com/mxmv4vy) and [boxer briefs](http://tinyurl.com/ljdm6yt)
> 
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	49. Treasured

You sat on he couch, legs up on the cushion, left foot hooked behind you right knee as you cradled your laptop over one thigh, crookedly and lazily scrolling through pages of websites displaying a surprisingly not-so-wide variety of _négligées_ and lingerie, left elbow shelved atop the sofa's armrest, hand smashing your cheek. Kylo circled the couch coming from the bathroom and stopped at your back, noticing the objects of your search.

"What's that for?" he inquired, gathering the top half of his luscious dark locks up and securing it with an intendedly black band.

"Hm? Just lookin'."

Completing his trajectory towards the front of the seat, he kneeled down on the rug by your side.

"I need less barriers between me and your holes. And these," pulling your shirt up, he squished your breasts together and latched onto them, alternatingly sucking and licking one and the other. "See? Less layers."

"But what if I get crotchless panties and open bras?"

He stared at you for a while, then sat next to you as a quick search to illustrate what you meant was performed.

"Too frilly. Too many tiny ribbons over the nipples, seems too much. That one is actually disturbing, probably the kind of stuff kids want to wear..."

"I think you'd be surprised with the things some teenagers 'like' online..."

"I don't wanna know, don't care, not into age play and that is freaking me out, scroll down!" Kylo took a hold of your hand and rolled over the mouse wheel to another line of thumbnails. "Need easy access to you, I don't get why we're still checking this."

"You have easy access to me, I'm pretty much always naked at home."

"'Pretty much always' isn't always. Should be always."

"And I do need underwear for when I have to go out into the world..."

"That's false. I might need easy access then too. It's stressing enough that you wear jeans so many times..."

You looked at him with a confused expression.

"I wear whatever the fuck I want! And you almost sound like we go out and fuck so many times that I might actually consider only walking around naked or forgo everything but skirts! We don't touch each other in public!"

"... So far."

"'So far?! Strangers in the subway touch me more than you. Your brothers touch me more in public than you ever will."

Something snapped inside him.

"Then what are you complaining about? They touch you, let them touch you, you don't need me to touch you!"

"Wh-you were the one who said you wanted easy access in public and it doesn-"

"Yeah, because we've fucked in bathrooms before!"

"But bathrooms aren't 'public', I mean, there's some privacy to them and I can easily take my clo-"

"So far you've been wearing dresses when that happens! But I still need to take off your panties!"

"And that's _so_ much work!"

"It can be!"

"Then pull them to the side!"

"I don't want them chaffing the side of my cock!"

"Then let me get these!"

"Why can't you just not wear anything?"

"Because sometimes it feels weird with certain clothes!"

"Wear looser clothes!"

"It's not that simple!"

"Yes, it is!"

"Why don't _you_ skip underwear then?"

"Because my dick would get raw or fall off if it went all day long against my thigh and scraping against rough denim!"

"Then wear only your looser, softer pants!"

"I need variety!"

"Well, so do I! Besides, we don't go out enough for this to even be an issue!"

"Why are you even shopping for lingerie?"

"Because if you wouldn't take so many of my panties with you, I would still have some to wear whenever I have to go to the store or, like, to the doctor!"

"Why are you going to the doctor? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong!"

"Is it the insomnia? Did you catch something?"

"No, nothing's wrong! It was ju-ahhh!"

He picked you up, walked to the wider open space and put you down, ripping your shirt off and touching your head, neck, back and breasts, pulling down your underwear and forcing you to sit on the floor while sliding it off your legs, which he inspected and spread open, looking at your cunt, sniffing and prodding, licking his fingers, turning you around and repeating the process with your butt, eyeing the back side of your legs and checking your feet. He pinched your nose till you ran out of breath, always fighting him, taking the opportunity when you parted your teeth to shove his hand in your mouth and force it open, scrutinizing it. He stared into your eyes and checked your ears. Then he sat on the floor with his legs tangled with yours.

"What is wrong?"

Exhausted, you repeated, "nothing is."

"Why are you going to the doctor?"

"It was simply an example, Ren..." your eyes scanned around, "I scheduled a check-up in a couple of we-"

"See?" he seethed, "What are you feeling?"

"Nothing freaky. Getting old. Just a little weirder than usual. And-"

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing! Probably nothing. I just haven't gone to an appointment in forever since I don't have insurance but I thought I should probably know... whatever I have to know, I don't know, I... None of this is a big deal, can we please drop this?"

"No. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now."

"That's not good enough."

"Yeah, I'm usually not."

He eyed you, almost hurt, and crawled closer, pulling you to him once he sat back on his butt on the floor.

"I'm sorry," Kylo whispered, kissing your cheek more than a single time and retracting to the couch, carrying you.

He kept you on his lap and lazily scrolled through the following two pages of hundreds of items, silently, opening a few of them in different tabs and closing the majority of them. He hummed to catch your attention from the spot behind his nape where your chin was resting and pointed at the laptop screen.

"Do you like those? Maybe you could get them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When people who have always been on self-destruct mode decide to tend to themselves for ONE TIME.  
> Silly arguments are silly. Quick body inspection like health or possible health issues are only visible. He is adorable.  
> Reader got no underwear. 
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	50. Hematic

Kylo's phone had rang and, to your surprise, he picked it up - mumbled conversation about stocks and audits and board meetings for the following three to four months. It got a bit louder every now and again, however everything you could decipher sounded entrepreneurial and boring. Even he seemed peeved about the phone call, nevertheless its necessity was implied. By the end of it, his cell had been dropped from no less than four inches high onto your kitchen table and the leviathan leaned back on the Japanese violet-hued, dining side seat, knees set apart as his fun socks sporting feet hooked on the inside of the chair's anterior legs, large arms folding over his face, sitting like such for a few minutes. You glanced up from your laptop to the man ahead of you, noticing his _masseters_ overworking through the space left uncovered by his muscled _brachiums_. Saving the newest version of your file, you lowered the screen and got up from the light black wooden, cross back side chair, rounding the half-circle from your perching spot to his, and delicately attempting to manipulate his limbs off of his head. When he allowed you to, the pads of your digits diligently sunk into the fluffed waves of darkness and pressed steadily on his scalp, along the hairline and over frontal, parietal and occipital areas and behind his big, beautiful ears, also massaging the back of his neck. After a while, Ren captured your hands, tilting his head backwards against your stomach and cleavage, paws resting atop yours on his shoulders. He breathed out noisily once, blinking calmly, before he got up and took you by the hand, pulling the collarless asymmetric jet-toned shirt off of his back when you both reached the bed. The gargantuan male kneeled in front of you, the soft messy curls of crow-colored hair reaching your midriff, his dull claws pushing your top upwards, spreading out across your belly and hooking on your flanks. His brown cat eyes leered at you from behind delicate eyelashes.

"Take it off." 

The susurrating bass of his voice was always enough to make you wet.

As soon as skin was exposed, your shorts were pulled off with your panties down your legs and his fingertips gathered under the cups of your brassiere, lifting it from your breasts. You removed it and he held your tits in his massive hands, slowly squishing them, your fingernails following the vein paths on the backside of his paws. His forehead leaned on your abdomen and you could feel his Aquiline nose digging in your flesh before you felt the clammy tongue licking your navel, the little metal ball perfectly penetrating the dimple, while his warm lips latched around it. Ren's arms descended, caressing the skin on his way to your cunt, reaching for it and groping, when he recognized a small cotton thread lightly twirled against your entrance. Prior to looking for himself, he kept his stare on you and fingered for the string, tip creeping in and hitting the bottom of your tampon, thumb joining to help unraveling the smooth twine.

"Lay down."

While you did so, Kylo shot up to his feet and finished undressing, crepe wool wrap pants, dark gay boxers with royal blue accents and multicolored flowery patterned socks subtracted from his Greek god physique, muscles shifting and tensing as he crouched, crawling over your legs, clutching the flesh of your thighs and leaving kisses planted by his plump lips while trailing after your clit, smoothing the twine in between his fingers and pulling it until the drenched bullet was out, disposing of it in the _avant-garde_ , tissue half filled dark purple trash bin by the nightstand on your side. Moving up your body, he then rotated with you straddling him, keeping your torso against his, roughly combing your hair with all digits and gathering it behind your head, away from your face and neck. 

Kylo loved staring at you. 

He traced along your nose with his own, all movements slow, doing it over and over again, something so simple leaving you so languid in his powerful arms. Letting go of your locks, he seized you closely, accommodating you to nuzzle the crook of his neck and feel his blood rushing through his body, heartbeat rhythmically pulsing over your left eyebrow and coupling your chests twining an argument between your diastoles and systoles, struggling to overwhelm each other, yet ending in a synchronized dance, the mugginess in your studio submersing it all, on and around you; outside, a heated rain caused everything to become sticky and heavy. His tresses, splayed on your pillow, were damp - he had trudged from the subway stop to your home without an umbrella, dragging his feet. Your teeth parted, lips connecting to the space at the rear of his left ear, kissing the beauty mark that hid there and tasting the perspiration along his collum on your tongue. At times his lower jaw would relax, saliva swarming his mouth, the bobbing of an Adam's apple making you aware of whenever he swallowed beneath your own mouth, a left hand of yours lifting and rubbing his dextral attached earlobe.

As the sun went down and took the day's brightness away, the air cooled and sweat settled and seeped through your skin, desultory oozing of blood from the pussy he owned onto his lower stomach for the greater part of that Spring afternoon. He snoozed and you did too, the oscillating norms of the periodic showers like a luring lullaby, swaying you both, who embraced each other. 

Just as the giant woke, his fingerpads slid across the declination of your back and followed the slope of your ass, also arising you from slumber. The slight stubble on his jaw line scraped your forehead and he patiently awaited for you to withdraw from the shelter taken by his clavicle, the prodigious man then observing your groggy, pouty face looking back at him, minor puffiness underneath his own scanning slanted, hooded eyes. You felt him touch the crevice of your ass, index and middle digits brushing and teasing your hole, lowering to the bleeding entrance and probing it, boosting your frame up to better insert his whole middle finger in the snug slit, adding his right ring one into it. Removing them, he regarded his hand, glistening and sullied with a diluted shade of alizarin crimson that his mouth took in, re-dipping the same extremities and presenting them to you, who accepted them in and licked them clean, a sweet flavor mixed with an iron tang in the back of your throat as you consumed it, still sucking on his fingers for as long as he kept them on your tongue. Ren let it continue, slow, supple, seducing in its simplicity and obsessiveness and you closed your eyes, loosely wrapping a fist around his wrist, being turned on your side as a spurious scheme for him to be in control, when in actuality he just wanted to watch you.

You were so beautiful. Your lips were so soft...

Closing your thighs in the new position, you could feel the slimy saturation that had gathered between your legs and your figures, and his paw at last vacated your cavity, palming his lower abdomen and discerning the textures of both dry and coagulated blood cells in plasma. Ren contemplated you anew, familiarly muted, lazily drafting marks on your stomach with the splotched fingerprints. He mostly seemed to await a reaction, painstakingly soaking his digits in the spoils of your source of life, reiterating the human canvas sketches performed by a god.

He laid his head on your chest, purely listening to your heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this one started since December/January, I don't know what's up with me and periods, bear with me. I'm sorry. But I'm not.
> 
> Visuals for this god damned chapter:  
> Ren's clothes: [socks](http://tinyurl.com/ls5vvqy), [shirt](http://tinyurl.com/loe2c8u), [boxers](http://tinyurl.com/ml4gddm) and [pants](http://tinyurl.com/kkmmklz)  
> Reader's bedroom trash bin: [here](http://tinyurl.com/mwwycko), but in [ this color](http://tinyurl.com/lghnlzr)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	51. Variant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last Thursday I'll be posting on, for a while. If chapters start cramping up my timeline, I'll go back to posting twice a week as needed. Thank you for putting up with all this, folks. You rock. <3

It was as warm as the temperature under your arm or between your legs. You know, the instinctive spots to heat up your hands in Winter. That exact temperature when it hit your face, about four times, two long shots, two much smaller, last one just dripped down, you didn't count it, didn't fall on you. Then you felt it cooling down almost immediately. There was always a little sorrow within, that you couldn't trap its heat in itself and on you. You sighed. He stared.

 _"A masterpiece. No: a ruined masterpiece,"_ he thought.

He had just fucked up something larger than life. Because you liked it. As much as you still felt weird while it happened, unable to not wince, you liked it. _Really_ liked it. Even if you couldn't avoid closing your eyes instead of watching what you loved to watch. You always thought you'd be able to, _"hopefully this time"_ , but intuitively you protected your eyeballs from it. Would probably hurt. And ruin it. Kylo didn't care, he preferred finishing inside you anyway. Feel you swallow or watch it slowly ooze out of you. Sometimes he simply wanted it to... stay in. Knowing fully well it'd come out sooner or later. What goes in must come out. But he finds himself wanting it to... stay... in...

Offering you a hand, he helped you up, walked with you to your bathroom. You turned the faucet on and gazed at your own reflection, caught a thick drip before it dangled, long, from the left side of your jaw. He sat on the toilet, wiping the almost nonexistent mess he had on, observed you washing your face, removing a glob of cum from your hair and wetting the lock abundantly. Shortly after, he exited the restroom, checked the time on his phone, redressed and left with his bag, all mutely. You assumed to work.

Your hands were freezing.

 

*

 

Someone was arguing on the phone outside, loud, angry, in a Cantonese dialect, five forty-three in the afternoon and sun surprisingly hot beaming down on the city. You had just walked in with a bag of groceries - granted, more snacks than anything else and not all of them as healthy as they should be, some of them perhaps containing more chemicals than the printed plastic pouches they were kept in, but you needed a break. From what exactly, you weren't sure. You felt frazzled as you stocked your pantry and refrigerator with the acquired provisions, your body overheating from the toasty weather conditions felt outside and aided by the exercising effort, having decided to skip public transportation and march to the store, knowing fully well that you wouldn't be carrying too many items that time.

" _You going to be home?_ "

The text came as you put your hair up and folded the empty reusable shopping bag you had taken with you, in the meanwhile eyes reading and rereading the message.

" _Yeah_ ," you replied at last, taking the phone with you as you filled a glass with water and took your seat on the left side of the couch.

That was it. And you didn't ask further questions though they materialized in your mind. You simply tried to busy yourself while waiting, even if you seemed stuck on your phone, going between your emails and two more apps, almost as if you didn't get the courage to attempt anything else or like your head was so occupied that you could only function within the rut you had fallen in the previous five minutes. 

Exhausting your scrolling thumb, you locked the screen and let your cell fall on your lap. Then the thought of cooking dinner filled your mind and, double clicking on a playlist in your laptop, you got up to your feet and plodded to the kitchen, flipping through the recipes in your head as you considered the food in storage and having stopped by the oven to preheat it. Taking a full carton of eggs and a leek from the fridge and grabbing a can of presliced mushrooms, you set everything on the counter and chose a large bowl to dump twelve yolks and egg whites, while also picking up the deep, cast iron skillet because you didn't own a safe pie dish to go in to such high temperature, setting it over fire and adding a scoop of refined coconut oil to melt away. Laying your trusting bamboo cutting board down, you sliced the remains of the leek you had already used in a previous course and swept it all from the surface into the cooking hardware with the aid of your paring knife, opening and draining the jar of precooked, immature _cremini_ mushrooms and _sautéing_ them alongside the leek rings. Glimpsing back, you caught sight of your mobile placed on the couch's arm and foolishly felt your mortality being crushed. Abruptly. Unjustifiably. After a deeper and shakier breath intake, you resumed your chore, whisking the recipient with the dozen eggs, sprinkling salt, black pepper and coriander seed powder to the mixture and pouring it onto the skillet, immediately popping it in the blazing oven and let it bake.

The clock hanging at the top of the wall above the kitchen showed eight fifty-one at night, your finished plate by your crossed feet on the DIY-looking coffee table, episode number fifteen of season four of the show you had been following for the last two months playing - you only played that show when you ate a freshly cooked meal alone, and considering you often skipped dinner, you were not doing too bad keeping track of the fictional timeline.

The door to your apartment opened, yet you kept your eyes on the TV, strenuously. Under the actors' voices you heard and sensed Kylo to your right, performing the usual tasks of kicking shoes off, dropping belongings, and then trailing behind you, setting something on the dining table, taking a couple of seconds, before the low clanking of spatula on heavy pan was heard, serving himself of the food you had prepared and opening the first drawer on the counter to fetch silverware. Rounding the opposite side of the sofa you sat on, counterclockwise, he undressed to his tight underwear, took his spot next to you and put your favorite ice tea down atop the surface ahead, partially drank.  
By the end of the episode, he had almost finished his plate, reaching for the beverage and taking a large sip, offering it to you after, who turned on your butt to better face him and nursed the drink. He glanced in you direction, chewing, swallowing, taking another bite. And you observed, his jaw tensing with action, large fingers holding your fork as he fiddled with the leftovers on the plate, the expansive chest rising and falling. When ready, he got up and topped your empty plate with his and took them to the dishwasher, rinsing them prior to allocate each utensil in open slots. Returning to the couch and taking the refreshment from your hands, the uncladded Colossus gulped it all down but a single sip he left for you and, giving it back, sat down on the floor in your direction, between seat and low wooden and iron surface, waiting for you to take that swig and put the empty bottle on the small end table behind you. Once done, you brought your legs down from the comfortable cushion and placed them over the broad decorated shoulders, his back turned to you, and you started untangling whatever knots had formed since he brushed his hair that morning, gathering the onyx locks in one fist and working your fingers gently from bottom to top, the still fluffed tresses beginning to show signs of oiliness. He would most likely wash it somewhere in the following couple of days. Pressing for the next episode to play, he then loosely wrapped his overpowering paws around your ankles, giving his attention to the show while you started to section his entire head of hair in three large parts, subdividing each in three more and French braiding each portion. Kylo laid his head over your left thigh to provide a better angle for the second plait and repeated the gesture when it came to the opposite one, occasionally chuckling at the scenes performed on the TV, though his eyelashes flitted in relaxation, eyes wanting to close for a minute.

He couldn't tell when you went from doing his hair, ends tucked in a bun, to delicately touching and rubbing his chin, jaw and ears, massaging the flesh of his lobes that surrounded the green dichroic fused glass studs, going upwards along the cartilage of the shell. Coming to himself, he slowly retook his seat by you and maneuvered you figure to lean against him between his legs, removing the top you still had on from having gone to the store. Brawny hands traced your silhouette and squished your breasts, first apart, then together, unpurposefully, just as the credits rolled at the end, you reaching out for the remote and stopping it, turning the television off and rotating towards him, kneeling in between his lower limbs and kissing his body from neck to stomach, pausing to worship the vast, grody scar on his left flank, grazing you lips over its texture and kissing it on your way to the firming shaft released from the secured comfort of his black boxer-briefs to the shuddering pleasure of your warm mouth, his eyes never leaving you.

That time you swallowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you care for some visuals?:  
> Food mentioned: [paleo mushroom and leek frittata](http://tinyurl.com/nyzrfnk)  
> Ren's underwear: [here](http://tinyurl.com/ksjxnv6)  
> Ren's hairstyle: [these braids](http://tinyurl.com/n2268wm), but ending in a bun  
> Ren's earlobe earrings: [here](http://tinyurl.com/n86sf2d)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	52. Integument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(

The large tip of his index delineated your vermilion border, feeling the smooth _vellus_ hairs surrounding it. Slowly, softly. Over and over again. Focused. Or not. He could be thinking about something else, something completely different...

You wanted to ask if he was going somewhere with it. You didn't want to move your mouth and interrupt him though. It felt good.

He painstakingly studied your lips and his fingers, eyelids lifting when meeting your observing eyes, his fire nimiety fragmenting the impassive mask, oozing and bleeding through the cracks, seeping into your skin, imbruing your bones, reaching all abstract and metaphysical places, those which wordlessly broadcasted encrypted messages that were incomprehensible to the deaf and the blind that beset in yelling their simulated acceptance, pretending to fight their make-believe battles, resenting meaningless, unimportant actions and words; and the others, the old-fashioned that openly exclude, that sentence, that blame, that shame without looking at themselves, believing they're above reproach, above the law, above the gods, when the gods themselves are a product of humankind's imagination or lack thereof...

Ren was your god. You appointed him as your god. He outshone amid the ocean of _homo sapiens_ , people as far as the eye could see, too many facsimiles, some being distinguished in their differences, boldly, loudly, then puddles of the antagonistically quiet, the forgotten or ignored, but amazing - without knowing, without wanting, he isolated himself from the rest of the world, in your eyes. Odd... as if he had chosen you before you chose him, before he deliberately chose you and you actively chose him... It wasn't convoluted to you. Not at all. Complex, perhaps, but not convoluted. It was felt, not reasoned with - it was beyond it. You were able to explain it, but you weren't sure the recipients would understand. You weren't sure they wanted to. So you didn't even try, would be a waste of time and none of their business anyway.

Still, there he was, feeling the flesh of your pout, too close to not do it...

You didn't even know how long he was at it.

A deep, airy sigh left your nostrils and he stopped suddenly, hand immediately abandoning its path and returning to the top of his cushiony couch, eyelashes fluttering out of his trance, yet remaining languidly on your features, then brushing over your figure, down, back up. His head laid next to yours and you turned on your side towards the giant and yawned.

"I like being here," you finally said.

He continued quiet for a while, assessing what it meant, what it could mean, what it probably meant, before deciding to engage.

"What does that mean?"

"That I like your place. And your company. It's comfortable."

"What is?"

"Both."

"Your studio is comfortable."

"I love my home," you nodded.

"Your company is comfortable too."

"I'm fond of it," lying with all your teeth, you smirked.

"You're fond of your loneliness..."

"As are you."

"Fond of whose loneliness?"

"Yours. And mine."

"You too."

His hand returned. To your hair, your cheek, your neck, squeezing.

"Would you kill me? If I asked you," left you in the form of a wavy whisper.

"No. Society tends to not see it with good eyes."

"Fuck society. Forget about the world: would you kill me, if I asked you to?"

"No. I'm selfish."

"I know you would. I think you would."

"Perhaps I would. I'm not sure," his right arm folded at the elbow and propped his head from underneath, "I would... but then who would be my whore?" he smiled on the sly.

"I really don't think that would be a problem..."

The thought you expressed in habitual self-deprecation stung, visibly. He held you in a stare, narrowed eyelids from the top of his aquiline nose.

"Don't do that. Don't try to trick me into saying shit-"

"It... was not my intention." He continued scrutinizing you. "You know me. I wou-"

You felt a shiver run from the center of your chest and spreading outwards in all directions, a tingle behind and in your nose, salty tears of dejection warning you of their incoming.

"Don't you dare crying. You're not playing me."

You couldn't help it, so before they spilled, you got up from your trench and walked over the leek-colored seats, jumping to the ground as you put on socks and pants and hoodie. All the while Kylo pressed on.

"You're expecting me to say you're special? That this is going to last and how much I love you and ask you to marry me? Are you hoping we live happily ever after? That bullshit is never happening!"

You slipped into your shoes and pulled your bag from the floor to you as you blindly went out the door, down the corridor and into the urgently called for elevator, marching out of his building and running to the subway station, angry that you started crying, angry that you weren't stopping, angry that there was nowhere for you to hide and scream and sob, hurting that he, of all people, had put you in the same bag as _them_ , those you hated, those you pitied. And hurting from your own secret, desirable delusions of normalcy. Maybe you were like the ones you pitied, the ones you hated, one of _them_ , and you were fooling yourself, thinking indeed you were part of the unique percentage, hallucinating you were at the same level as he was, whichever that was...

In the middle of his living-room, he paced, seething and foaming, badmouthing as self-defense, as if you were a virus and he needed to raise his immunoglobulin count by the thousands to shield himself.

Kylo stopped. He knew you. He knew he was wrong. And worse, you _were_ special. And he _did_ want it to last. He hoped it would. And you weren't living happily ever after, but you _could_ live in your self-loathe, supporting each other ever after, together. You could. Perhaps.

He thought of chasing you, but... what would he say? And what would he do? Those ropes that tied around his neck and obstructed his throat, hindering his words to pour out like molasses, they had to be cut down. It had been years and the smell of your body lotion on your skin after you showered and exited the bathroom still relaxed him, closing his eyes every time, detecting it in the air and then sniffing it on you. And the scent of you, unwashed, no perfumes to mask your essence, would always stimulate him. Your hair...

Was it weak of him to want to succumb to those feelings? Was he worthy of them? Of you?

In that moment you couldn't have been more thankful for the indifference of New Yorkers towards you on the train and the sunglasses you remembered to wear the previous day when you headed out to Ren's apartment, gleaming eyes and runny nose at last free to weep in despondency within the safe confinements of your studio. All due to the silly habit you had of forgetting your place, of getting carried away by his intensity and confusing it for adoration, for more, expecting his vulnerable moments to last or to be some sort of sign... How callow of you.

You got up from the mattress, dashed to your door and locked yourself in, disconnecting your land line and turning your phone off before falling back to bed and tightening sheets and duvet around your balled up frame. The world would soon cease to exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	53. Dissociation

You didn't quite know what to do. Somehow that felt unexpected, unfamiliar. You weren't even sure if you would recover from it, the stage it had reached. Was that a breaking point?

It had been about two weeks, twelve days to be exact, since you ran out of Ren's apartment and locked yourself within your nest, weather ranging from rainy and muggy to sunny and pleasant outside, all seen from behind the expansive industrial windows of your home, busy people walking along the street, entering and exiting the restaurants, the comic store, the tiny accessory shop that had opened last month yet you weren't convinced they would last on that location - their window display didn't have much and from what you could observe... their pieces weren't that interesting and not many people would even go in, majority of them strolling by and barely sparing a glance towards the business. The city fed many niches, but it was still difficult to get into the commercial scene and make a profit. Good luck, bland body decorations!

You thought about him constantly. Sometimes you would indeed open your eyes in the middle of the night and in your chronic insomniac moments and check if he was next to you, anyway. Your bed wasn't cold, but your chest was tight. And it hadn't even been that long...

Going about your days, you would regularly look at your phone, always vibrating with notifications of utter insignificance, nothing from Kylo. And like always, masturbating at least twice per day to the thoughts of him and his enormous hands, his soulful eyes, robust arms and chiseled abs, his succulent pout, his poise and his savagery, his smile, his sturdy thighs and his mighty back, his walloping cock and how much it wrecked you, every single time, and words that titillated you, that put you into submission, and his voice. God, his voice... You missed his voice so much. If you could hear it...

You came to your senses a bit too early, as if you could control any of it, simultaneously feeling that elephantine frame on you and knowing it was inside of you, however... it was almost as if it wasn't. You felt it, but didn't. And it was painful, but not in a conventional way - it wasn't hurting your body, it was hurting what wasn't corporeal. Slowly, you unintendedly started focusing on grunts from the distant, nebulous state you were returning from, not quite certain where it was located and how you went there, and it sharply hit you all at once, full force, on your stomach and in your mind: it wasn't him. 

It wasn't him and it wasn't right. 

It wasn't him and felt really, really wrong, intrinsically wrong. 

It was crushing you, in every meaning of the verb. 

It was going inside of you and it was disgusting and vile and it wasn't him, because it wasn't him.

That flabby physique, that person on top of you shouldn't be there, it clearly wasn't right. Like the planet began rotating clockwise, contradictory to its factual direction about its axis. As if people had arms for legs and legs for arms, walking on their sides, bearing inchoate, shapeless offspring through their elbow pits and other similar ligaments opposite anatomical joints. 

Something was very wrong. And that guy was about to finish.

He panted and moaned and pulled his dick off of you with great travail and removed the condom and ejaculated on your midriff, your head tilted to the side, away from the man, focused on the wall, trying to stretch your neck as far as you possibly could, your lightly pressed lips trembling, entire figure unnoticeably shaking. Your whole torso and thighs were covered in scuzzy sweat and squalid semen.

Where the fuck were you?

It all broke. A low-pitched growl turned to a scream and morphed into incessant sobbing. You were home. The dude asked you something that you couldn't hear, twice, then questioned you regarding something else, also undiscerning, then onerously got to his feet, lingered, probably dressing, and left. You remained there, dead, revolted, unable to subdue the inexorably loud, laden laments, hemorrhaging spirit of an addicted, brokenhearted, calamitous woman with strife and tragedy running through her veins, inflating her lungs since birth. Why wouldn't you accept what just happened? It only seemed logical and deserving: you did it to yourself, punishing your carcass and your psyche as abominably as you could at that moment.

Curious thing was... it didn't take much. 

Merely not being Ren was enough to destroy you. And not the good kind of destruction, when there's mending, rehabilitation after. No. Solely digging further down into the bottomless abyss of your hell, which you have never departed nor renounced and have never hitherto felt so widowed in. Desolated.

Crawling to an upright position, you lugged your crestfallen self to the bathroom and paused by the marble and wood vanity sink, staring at the large mirror and the slovenly ghost in it. As you ceased crying, you became overwhelmed by the physicality of the foreign fluids on you and bolted to the toilet, bending over it, almost hitting you head while vomiting bitter greenish yellow bile into the porcelain bowl. You rested for a minute on the marginally textured floor, giving an instance for your stomach to assuage, fingering the silver ball chain and guiding the plug into the drain hole, turning on the tub's faucet after. Gathering some soft toilet paper, you wiped your abdomen to the best of your capability, the queasiness returning and making you puke once again.

You simply wanted your body to stop. An annoyingly attempt at telling yourself out loud precisely that proved you had lost your inflection from forceful exertion of esophagus and pharynx and the acid damage on your larynx, a hoarse split quickly fading you to a mute. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that instant - felt spent, finished, but how to tell if that was it, when those sensations were so ordinary to you? If one is on the brink so often and snaps frequently... how to tell when the last time will be? Is it a time bomb? Or does it lose all urgency? You rarely thought of such, being one and the other and a mixture of both; despising, nevertheless envying those who did not know adversity, as well as those whose misery translated in a fluctuating chart. Like emotional pain and transmundane agony could be measured in frowny faces or from one to ten. _"My despondency dick is bigger than yours."_ Ludicrous. Still, you couldn't help but wordlessly flout at them.

Cutting off the flow of water, you lazily sagged over the bathtub's border and sunk under the scalding liquid, allowing yourself to be submerged in it for as long as possible. Dishonorably, the same rotten brain that pleads for you to give up also urges your muscles to react. Treacherous dualism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No. No, kids, please.
> 
> Old visuals that I believe never to have posted before:  
> Reader's bathroom counter, sink (no double sink) and mirror (disregard all else): [here](http://tinyurl.com/lxmlcd6)  
> Reader's tub and shower combo: [here](http://tinyurl.com/l55a4a8), but with [this shower head](http://tinyurl.com/mszvphz) (Ren's shower spoiled her, what can I say?)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	54. Harborage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If derogatory terms used in endearment bother you, bye.

Six thirty A.M..

Not even as early as he was now used to wake up. And after an actual fully slept night, it didn't feel so bad. Or perhaps that was because he already had his first cup of Yemeni Mocha coffee with half and half and was setting the seated spots on the kitchen's island, while dark rye bread was being slightly toasted and the pile of scrambled eggs and three links of Italian _salsiccia_ had just hit the plates.

Time to run into the room and delicately wake them up - mixed DNA of a woman he once really cared about and his own. Maybe he shouldn't have cheated on her. Or maybe they would've fallen apart anyway. 

The sun had begun to shine through the curtains he left somewhat apart and he could tell the twins no longer slept profoundly from the sound of their breathing - that always meant getting them out of bed wouldn't be such an arduous chore fit for Hercules as one of his Twelve Labors. Plus, less heartbreak for Ben, having to rip his children out of the warm coziness of their beds to be away from him for the duration of school and work. Cari and Aric shared a bedroom, not due to lack of options, since the youngest triplet's house had three other guestrooms, but he wanted to keep them together for as long as they were comfortable with, sharing toys and space, two distinct personalities close beyond imagination, like he was once with his own brothers.

Invariably, he woke his boy first, usually quieter, less commotion to happen on such wee hours, and even if Aric was on an bad day, there was rarely any screaming, only sad, silent sobs that often made a toddler-age Kylo flash across his mind, endearingly, disturbingly. The girl tended to whine far more: an energetic child that had the hardest time setting her day in motion. However, by mid-breakfast she would be too wired up, babbling, presenting the most fantastical scenarios and outrageously questioning every sentence provided to her, even if a simple remark regarding lunch. Cari was a handful, like his former self. Suddenly, he felt bad for their nannies back then... 

Desiree's day often started later, therefore she still slept, which allowed Ben to enjoy the kids' antics and to spend a little quality time before dropping them at school. He preferred being the one to do it, never wanting to burden anyone with the twin's upbringing nor minding to make the detour to their preschool on his way to work. Even if his _fiancée_ said she could do it. Perhaps he wasn't ready to let her into their lives like that... They were his responsibility, his corrupted blood running in those tiny munchkins' veins... They were _his_. 

Ben kneeled by Aric's bed and placed two quick pecks on his forehead, lingering really close to his son's face, waiting for his rising reaction. The boy lifted his little hands to his father's cheeks and petted them, scowling with his eyes still shut for a few seconds.

"Good morning, baby boy. Let's get up," the man whispered.

Opening his hooded and gloomy goldenrod and gray eyes, he remained quiet, contemplating his dad in the dawn lit room for about three eyeblinks, before sitting on his booty and looking at the objects throughout the room, monitoring: his sister's bed; the clothes he chose to wear for school laid out on the previous night on one of the small chairs by the activity table; the dresser where a couple of toys displayed on top of it. Wild jet black curls formed the cutest bedhead ever, as he rubbed his eyes and yawned, getting to his feet and collecting his outfit on the way to the bathroom, knowing there would probably be some noise about to start anytime.

Ben repeated his gestures with his daughter, but she gave no signs of wanting to wake up, so he murmured his good mornings in her ear and told her about breakfast, calmly and repeatedly kissing her cheek, to which she replied by gradually initiating a tearless wail accompanied by blanket-kicks. Stepping back, he could not help but wonder what was he doing wrong. And the answer was nothing. Nevertheless, that phase would last a long while. 

Finally able to separate a much calmer Cari from her bed and put her into clothes, by the time the pair got to the kitchen, the boy had fished the bread from the toaster, no longer scalding hot, and was halfway done with his food, having messily prepared his twin's toast with apricot jam, while his bitten one had grape jelly. 

"Here," the small male voice presented, tapping the barely warm rye slice with the back of his fingers towards her, unable to shake the concern and grief in his chest, blooming from listening to Cari's cries. 

While the children had their food, Ben quickly combed their manes, not the most sanitary of the actions, but on a school day he would comply with whatever worked and that method had proved itself to be the best. That day the girl wanted a bun on top of her head and the boy asked for his hair to be down, dad gathering whatever strands of hair shed from their scalps and dropping them in the trash bin, the ones on the floor being promptly swept onto a corner, Ben at last sitting down after refilling his mug, sprinkling salt and black pepper on his eggs and beginning to eat his then cold food, chatting a bit with his children, while studying them.

Lunches packed and teeth eventually brushed, a short battle was raged when it came to putting shoes on, undecissiveness and impromptu pee breaks and mix-matching sneakers galore, everyone miraculously in the car by seven forty-seven and the day had merely started.

That Wednesday at noon he had to leave the town's headquarters and drive over an hour to the city theater of operations, where their largest freight parking met the shipyard at Boston's harbor, in a bi-monthly visit to supervise and attend to the employees' observations and reports, something already not comprised in his duties, yet he still preferred to be close to the workers and they appreciated the frank approach that reminded the older ones so much of his father, Han, since he even brought lunch to the guys on the docks.

Ben's afternoon tended to be filled with digital paperwork and conference calls with the most varied companies which sought their services, something he could easily delegate to an employee, however didn't mind sharing the task. That day, being by the port, he knew there was no way he could possibly finish in time to pick up the kids from school at two thirty, so he texted Desiree asking if she wouldn't mind doing it. 

As much as he loved her and knew she loved the children, it still didn't feel right, having been by himself the first four years of the twins' lives and getting help only from family members. All the same, Ben knew he couldn't keep his babies only to himself. He _knew_ that, but still couldn't help it. Improving the overall adverse feeling, as soon as Desi grabbed both chipmunks from the establishment, she videocalled her _fiancé_ to let them speak throughout the car ride home, where Huda, an incredibly friendly, responsible and geeky high school junior that lived six houses down, would be joining them at four o'clock, after her little segment on entrepreneurship and community development on the local radio station until Ben arrived home, so Desiree could resume her work day.

"Daddy!" they both screamed to the sight of their father on the tablet.

"Monkey butts! How was school?"

"Okay. We learned that a marble sinks and an apple doesn't sink, it floats. It stays float," Aric informed his father.

"'Afloat'. It stays a-float," Ben corrected.

"Yes, a-float. Pencils stay afloat too!"

"And pennieth think! And rockth from the garden! And Mth. Boro'th thithorth!" Cari continued, excitedly as she held onto the device.

"Alright. Cari? Cari, please hold the screen towards you, I'm getting dizzy."

"I'm thorry, Daddy," the child fixed the angle to where the camera was pointing at.

"It's okay, much better now. So what else doesn't sink?"

"Leaves!"

"That's right. Did you guys go outside today? I've already heard you talking about rocks from the garden, now leaves..."

"Yeah... we got to see the tomatoes that we planted in February."

"And we planted corn!"

"And we made popcorn with what was left."

"Was there a lot left?"

"A little, but it made a lot of popcorn! Look!" Aric fetched a small _bleu de France_ plastic container filled with blown grains towards the tablet.

"You didn't eat it?"

"We did, Daddy, but we got more for you."

"Thank you. Okay, so Desi is going to drop you guys home and Huda is going to go over and stay with you, alright?"

"Okay," they replied in unison.

"Now, make sure you eat the yogurts on the bottom shelf of the fridge when you get home. And Huda knows there's fruit and... I'll be home way before dinner time..." Ben trailed off, abstracted in his thoughts as the papers he held in his hands for the last eight minutes felt like props.

"Okay! Can we watch a movie, Daddy?"

"Now or after dinner?"

"Uh..."

"Now! And at dinner!" Cari exclaimed, wanting to have it all.

"No! No, no. Either you watch a movie with Huda or you watch one with me tonight."

The twins looked at each other, reticent, debating in their young minds what would the best option be.

"Alright, listen: if you wanna watch cartoons, do it with Huda; if you wanna watch something else, we'll do it together," their dad offered, in hopes of facilitating their thought process and induce a choice.

"Eltha!" Cari yelled.

"No..." under his breath, Aric reacted to his sister's automatic response with the sulkiest pout ever seen.

"Cari! Cari..." Ben attempted to settle the impulsive spirit down.

And it worked. She stared at her brother and then petted his head, sighing in resignation through her little button nose like a grown woman, putting the screen really close to her face.

"Okay, Daddy. We'll wath whatever Aric wanth when you get home tonight. But can you bring ithe cream...?"

"No, not tonight. Friday night we can have ice cream, deal?"

She sighed once more, "deal."

It was six thirty-four when the Ford Flex parked in the two-vehicle garage, a tad later than he had anticipated. Carrying a bag, he entered the house through the kitchen's side door, two loud streams of laughter greeting him in their obliviousness - they hadn't realized dad was home, distracted by the exercise of saving a family of endangered stuffed creatures, a dinosaur, a shark and a feline among them, with their superhero beach towel capes and mysterious ninja t-shirt headgear. The teenager heard Ben's footsteps and her head movement triggered the children into hyperawareness, a shrieking Cari and a giggling Aric bolting to their father, hugs and kisses and pants fabric tugs followed by animated chatter.

"Hi, Huda! Sorry I'm late, someone bumped into someone else on the freeway... How's everything?"

"It's okay, Mr. Solo. They were good and had their snacks and didn't want anything else, so we were in a subtropical forest in India attempting to rescue some of the fauna..."

He smiled, handing her the previously agreed upon cash that covered for the two hours and a half of her time, while Huda removed her own wrapped cardigan from her head and neck.

"So do we know the name of this place?" Ben asked in a further resounding tone towards his kids, who had returned to the couch, intended to complete the mission before they were called for dinner.

"Meghalaya!" Aric's small hands formed claws and rose progressively towards the ceiling.

"But none of the animals you got there belong in an Indian forest," the dad fomented.

"You have to uthe your imathinathion, Daddy!" the girl proceeded to point out, "the'th a macaque, he'th a Bengal tiger, he'th a red panda, the'th a gaur and the'th a cobra," sequentially Stitch, a house cat, an Emperor penguin's chick, a dilophosaurus and a sand shark.  
Ben leaned over to Huda and sussurrated, confused.

"What the fuck is a 'gaur'?"

"It's a kind of ox, like a bison? We looked up some animals from India when they ran out of ideas and we ended up learning some stuff, clearly!" she laughed.

"Hm. So, Cari, how come some are 'hes' and some are 'shes'?"

"Becauthe their private biths are different. Thee? Thith one hath a vulva and thith one hath a penith," the little one turned two of the toys upside down and evidenced her argument with visibly nothing.

"Really?" Ben took the alien-turned-primate, "but this one looks like a boy and you said this one was a 'she'..."

"Daddy! It doethn't matter!" 

"She has a penis, but she's not a boy," the male twin impassively said, balancing the kitten-tiger on his head.

Ben felt accomplished. Much more than he could ever feel towards anything work-related, even if it was the deal of the century! Nothing could come close to seeing and hearing his kids were not only bright and creative, but sensitive and inclusive.

"Oh-kay! Who wants roasted veggies and chicken? Huda, you staying fo' dinner?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Solo. I have to go home. My oldest brother just finished his active duty service last month and he's finally home, so we've been having our meals together, you know, the whole family again," she grinned, leaning over her right leg supported by the heel.

"Oh, that's great! Does he know what he's gonna do now?"

"He's getting in the army reserve and he's been talking about maybe going back to college and get a second degree? But... I think he's going to want a job. I don't know. We'll see!"

"Okay, well, let me know what he decides to do, because I might have a job for him, whether an office job or a more hands-on one. Depends on his availability. And depends on what he wants, of course... And here, since you're not staying for dinner, take dessert with you," walking to the kitchen as they spoke, Ben then opened the bag he brought in with him and took out a white pastry box, removing the lid and splitting half of its contains, placing them in a clear, red-lid tupperware and resealing the original container, giving it to the girl.

"Aw, thank you, Mr. Solo! You didn't have to!"

"Yeah, I know, but I wanted to. Be safe!"

Goodbyes were exchanged between everyone in the house and soon the twins were joining their father in the kitchen to help him cook, special outfits removed, picking out the vegetables they wanted to eat and seasoning the white meat, before it hit the pan.

Once done, they met on the sofa, plates and silverware washed, Desiree's food saved, all wildlife neatly ordered on the floor against the dark lacquered entertainment center, having chosen Charlie Chaplin's "The Kid" to watch that _soirée_. As the credits showed in the beginning, Ben uncovered two huge and soft chocolate chip cookies, which they got to eat half each, while dad munched on his dad popcorn. By the last twenty, fifteen minutes of the film, both kids nested with him, Cari drowsily playing with one foot after Ben kept removing her thumb from her mouth and Aric absentmindedly resting his right hand on his father's jaw, tiny tips of digits stroking it at random times. 

For the next couple of days, the tall, broad man would be working from home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all hate me for writing so much Cari speech with the "impairment" she has.  
> Ben prefers teaching his children the correct name of things.
> 
> I so wanted to provide a couple of visuals, but I'm dead and have to yet prepare a class I'll be giving in an hour. However, I am sure we'll be visiting this household again.
> 
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	55. Disreality

It broke.

The skin split.

The flesh ripped.

The artery severed.

The tendon snapped.

The organ punctured.

The bone shattered.

All was broken.

And the piercing high speed sound of a surgical drill carved out holes in your skull. From your skull.

Big ones. Small ones. They felt the same, saliferous sobs and mucilaginous mucus on the pillow, incognito love poems of pain for a notorious man.

So much of everything that it paralyzed you. Often. Absurdly.

And your hands, hanging lifeless, encompassing not him, but the pillowy emotional companion who was loyally there, cladded in black, broodingly closemouthed.

Like him, but not him.

Unwashed carcass, unfed spirit, scarce energy, sufficient wounds.

An opulence of bewilderedly hummed "I love yous" into the snug friend, dissipating like gentle smoke on a windy day, your lips repeating the imploding prayer till the next convulsive mourning, morning, afternoon and evening, resuming as soon as the spongy ramifications in your lungs consented.

So much deeper than religion.

A torment so enlightened that dragged you lower into the boundless gorge of existence. It didn't have to though. Drag you. You could very well lock hands with it and walk peacefully to the screaming fire that deafened everyone.

Existence, _your_ existence - that disparate and quasi continual exasperation cause, unreal in its realness and real in its nonreality, a mind with thoughts kept away from the righteous and rightful people of that side, or so they label themselves. The "normals", the confined, even as adventurous and as sage as they believe themselves to be...

It stopped.

They all stopped making noise outside. At last, no more shrilling sounds, no more clamorous crowd.

Instead, a reverberating heartbeat, precipitating your chest, head and hands to shake with every opening and closing of the valves, worthless dams.

Like the crackling of embers, your sheets were all you heard in your dying flame, not enough pyre, not enough of anything.

Your unkept body still held on to who wouldn't complain, who would understand, from the inwards of his cottony brain.

Closing your tired eyes, you maintained your position and your consciousness, you thought. At least you weren't sleeping.

Focused on the sonorous respiration, in and out your own nose, ribbons of memories of an ill man in your bed always vigorous enough to infect you whether little by little or all at once.

Still, you, "I love you, I love you, I love you. I love... you. I... love you. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."

Teenager notebook scribbles spoken by dehydrated, asperous lips.

But even that was inaccurate: teenagers didn't write anymore, people didn't write anymore. Love letters became emails became texts, all telegraphic, with less characters and more symbols, all immediate and still taking too long.

Where was peaceful passion? That dichotomy that offers both serene accord and irascible intensity.

You had it.

You had had it.

Not fully, never completely, certainly not officially, but it was there.

You felt it.

You saw it.

You lived it.

Not anymore.

It broke.

And all these love letters you wished to kiss through his thorax and into his heart... adrift.

Ridiculed and rejected, even before they could prove themselves.

The pads of your fingers brushed over the velvety section, blood pumping organ throbbing in your temples, mildly cold toes rubbing against their opposite faulty copies, your swollen, humid features sinking in the plushie.

"I only wanted to kiss you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	56. Derelict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna post twice a week again for a while. Thanks for reading, boos.

" _Have you talked to her?_ "

" _No._ "

" _When was the last time you heard of her?_ "

He had to think.

He knew when it was - after that stupid blowout.

However, he didn't precisely know how long ago it had been, so he sat down, counted work days and weekends and opened his messages and added some days, all coming back and then he had it.

" _21 days ago._ "

" _And thats normal?_ "

To be honest, yes: there were times when you had been so immersed in your work and in your head that long stretches of time would go by; there were other times when he was so busy with work or traveling and trapped in his own mind that a month or more would go by as well.

But never having parted like you had.

Never crying. Never upset. Never in need.

" _No. Have you gone there?_ "

" _Not yet wanted to figure out if it was just me she was avoiding._ "

Kylo stared at that last received text for a while.

" _Stop by her place after work,_ " he finally sent.

" _Shouldnt YOU go you have her key._ "

" _If she's locked in, I won't be able to open the door anyway. Besides, you're far less threatening._ "

Ren paced around in his apartment. He didn't really want to send Matt to go talk to you. After the trip to Florida in the beginning of the year, he couldn't quite wrap his head around anything concerning your friendship with his triplet. Or better, Matt's friendship with you... Those sounds were still etched in his brain and he wished he could expunge them. Not waiting for his brother's reply, the leviathan composed yet another message:

" _When was the last time you two spoke?_ "

After two minutes that seemed to rival eternity, the answer materialized on the screen.

" _April 22._ "

Two days prior to that afternoon. A petty wave of relief flooded him, knowing that you hadn't talked about what happened, but most importantly, he was the last person you communicated with, the last person you were with. Of the two.

" _If you don't mind then, stop by her place after work and inform me of what happens._ "

" _Of course I dont mind im leaving in less than 2 hours._ "

The rage building inside of him could not be hindered - the blonde brother was finishing work early. Churning venomous thoughts of jealousy, possessiveness and of insufficiency, spontaneous theories of perfidy, all blending, quivers of resentfulness, tempestuous feelings generating a ferocious stance that manifested from tip of hair strands to the soles of his feet, as bewitching and as violent as the mighty Titan Oceanus. 

 

*

 

As he walked towards your building, Matt hurried his march and managed to catch the front door open, right when a woman about his age entered the vestibule holding on to two bags of groceries and wearing a baby. Polite, he offered to carry the supplies up to her apartment for her, which she accepted, climbing two flights of stairs with her sore back and a sleepy five-month old in a carrier on her front. The girl thanked him for his assistance and mentioned her husband and herself had seen him around in a different haircut, ending up asking if he lived in the building. Matt explained how the person they saw was his brother and that they both had a friend who lived there. The tall man excused himself, the mom thanked him and he went back to the stair well, ascending to the floor above and walking towards the opposite side of the service door, down the short hall and stopping at your studio.

Before knocking he thought how the last few times he had visited you, there was always someone either arriving or exiting the building, allowing him and his nerd-next-door pleasant looks to get past that first barrier, when he highly doubted you would even buzz him up that day. Lucky, one could say. If luck could simply be measured in such a trifling scale.

He glanced over his shoulder, pulling his lower lip into his mouth, and tried to listen for any sound coming from within your apartment.

Nothing.

" _Maybe she's sleeping. Or out, maybe she's not home,_ " he speculated to himself, yet didn't quite believe his own thread of thought.

He waited a while longer, checking the time on his tan leather strap and stick, matte jet-toned dial MVMT wrist dress watch, four sixteen in the afternoon ticking seconds away, when a faint and low metallic clank was heard. Flashing over his shoulder once again, the hopeful guy looked though the peephole on your door and naturally saw nothing but pitch black.

"Stupid..." he mumbled, shaking his head at his own spontaneous move.

Inhaling deeply, he lifted his right fist, lowered it half way and used his middle finger knuckle to knock, creating a much softer sound and waited. He thought of the possibility of you being with your headphones on, listening to music, and pointlessly tried one more time. Matt stepped back to leave, but hesitated, both debating between reasons why you wouldn't open the door and why you could very well grant him entry. He remained standing sideways in the corridor, not sure if he should leave or insist. Then you appeared through the cracked door, his head whipping towards you.

"Hey... Wasn't sure if you were home, I just wanted to check on you because it's been a while and you hav-..."

You floated away from the entrance and went to sit on the Prussian blue couch and he halted his innocuous speech, going in and obeying your customary rules of no shoes indoors and dropping his messenger bag by the wall-lined footwear. The tenderhearted giant approached you like you would attack him, vigilantly, and joined you on your cushiony seat.

Lackluster frame with calamitous eyes, the trenches underneath them seemed deeper than ever, yet, you spoke first.

"Are you okay? You look disordered."

"What? I do?" he took his hands to his bleached locks, making a blind effort to compose his guise, "I'm okay, left work a little early, just helped one of your neighbors with their groceries..."

"You did?"

"Yeah, this girl with a baby? They live one floor down."

"Did she have braids?"

"She did, yeah."

"They moved in last... year... Early last year, her and her boyfriend, husband, something," your voice raspy as if you were sick.

"Husband. And now they have a baby."

"Hmm," you nodded along the information provided, already knowing such, but not quite wanting to prolong the chat about nothing.

Matt adjusted his quirky glasses on his aquiline nose, turning slightly in your direction, left leg folding under his right knee.

"So, what's up with you?"

"Nothing, just work. Lot of work," you scratched your dextral upper arm, automatic response leaving your lips, tight-lipped simper on exhibit.

"Really? That busy? You couldn't take thirty seconds to text back? Let me know you're alive?"

You wish you weren't.

Your eyes closed, head shifting away from him as your tongue swiped over your incisors, a grimace of distastefulness stamped on your semblance. You sighed before offering him a vague answer.

"You know I'm not good with communication. Sometimes months go by before I think about replying..."

"Even to me? I try not to bother you, but... just last year we barely spoke before you texted me that time... I miss you..."

You covered your eyes with your hands, a mixture of shame and guilt and of not wanting to acknowledge that there was someone saying that to you, of wanting to be alone, of _having_ to be alone, forever.

"I'm not good company," came muffled from between your fingers.

"The hell 're you talking about? You're not good company? Well, you fooled me all this time!" he placed his forearms over his knees, leaning in your direction, "and shouldn't I be the one to judge the quality of your company? Hm? You're always trying to decide things for me..."

His fingertips brushed the seam on the sleeve of the ragged men's t-shirt you wore. After so many warm sunny days, the sky was grey and crying then, dimming the brightness coming into your studio. As you uncovered your face, he carefully pulled you towards him, surrounding you with long, comforting limbs, anatomies settling on the couch's one-piece seat cushion. Matt breathed in the scent of your hair, kissing the top of your head, lips then resting over your warm forehead.

"Talk to me, Shortcake."

 

*

 

It was almost midnight.

He had tried to keep his mind off of it, at least not to get too engrossed in it, having gone to work and taught his classes, focusing on his students' chatter, but even them, the older ones, asked if everything was okay.

He didn't know, he didn't know if everything was okay, but he offered a socially acceptable white lie and redirected their focus to themselves and their faulty forms, more demanding that Tuesday evening, perhaps more inexorable too, hitting the air with his _bokutō_ much harder than he should, straining muscles which he would only be aware of the following day.

In his mind, the uninterrupted avalanche of what could have possibly happened and why wouldn't Matt text him, how he shouldn't have sent him, but should have gone himself, thinking perhaps the door to your studio never opened, or worse - perhaps it did. Worse? Was it really that bad? He was probably just imagining things, there was nothing wrong with you and Matt talking, sitting together on the couch he always sat, watching you cook and helping you like he did, eating across the table from you, seeing the bed where he slept with you and fucked you on... 

He was sitting on his tweed sectional, dim kitchen lights on behind him, ostensibly doing nothing, yet an overloading obsession was playing in his mind, a violet _Sahasrāra_ utterly routing him or vice-versa or maybe they were one and the same. Kylo had screamed earlier and his head screamed back at him then. His phone vibrated in his hand.

" _She didnt tell me what happened but shes depressed._ "

He scowled at the late text. After so many hours, if you haven't mentioned what happened, why the hell was he there till... twelve twenty in the morning?

" _What do you mean with 'she's depressed'? She's always depressed._ "

" _I meant shes visually depressed._ "

" _Did you notice if she's been locking the door?_ "

" _Idk i guess not didnt hear the bolts being handled either time. But dont go there now shes sleeping._ "

He almost felt dizzy, pounding heartbeat in his chest and in his ears.

" _I don't need your input. How do you know she's sleeping?_ "

" _She said she was going to sleep dude i have to go got work in the morning good night._ "

" _Thanks. Good night._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's learn languages!  
> Bokutō - Japanese wooden training sword
> 
> Visuals for today's chapter:  
> Matt's watch: [here](http://tinyurl.com/kmm7888)  
> Ren's bokutō: [website](http://tinyurl.com/kmxasfx) cause these folks copyrighted their images and I'm a wuss. Also, longer "blade".
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	57. Paramount

Thursday night, nine fifty-three when you decided that was enough for the day, numbly watching your laptop going from the background image to the app-closing screen to the mirroring black rest, cord being unplugged and your expectant hand on the LCD, anxious for the sweet sound of silence, when the cooling fan would at last cease its continuous labor and allow you to fold monitor to keyboard and set it aside on the low nightstand. 

You weren't hungry, just tired, so you used the restroom, lowered the roller shades on the windows further from your bedroom, turned off the lights and laid down, letting the faint luminosity from outside as well as the purposeful sounds in your headphones relax you. It was still quite early but sleep had been a stranger that past week, which made you give in to exhaustion after half an hour of hypnotizing resonances.

Not even ten minutes following that, his car was being parked outside, coat and duffel bag grabbed out of the passenger's seat and him entering your building, slow, calculated steps going up three levels, keys in hand as he reached your front door.

With the street lights' glow and the moon shine aiding his vision within the apartment, he automatically took off his handmade, Spanish imported, Boris Bidjan Saberi black high tops, quietly placed keychains, rings and wallet in their usual places, bulky belongings on the couch and tiptoed to your bed, undressing and throwing asymmetric neckline and seams t-shirt, obsidian socks with single vertical bright mint green stripes running from toes to calf and dim-gray Saxx long thigh underwear into your hamper, approaching your side of the mattress and seeing you sleeping with your headphones on. Crouching next to you, he attempted to remove them without waking you, which he failed at, scaring you awake and making you burst into tears, getting on his knees as he hugged you tightly and soothed you with his hushed tone.

"It's me, it's just me. Shhh... I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Shhh... It's just me... I wanted to see you... I'm sorry..."

He got up, took the cup on your bedside table and smelled its contents as he walked to the bathroom and used it, also dumping the cold and old remnants of tea, rinsing it and filling it with water, offering the drink to your wet-faced self, who gulped it down.

He laid next to you in bed and pulled the comforter over the both of you, staying inches apart, almost afraid of touching you any more than he had already. You felt frazzled, unable to have the argument you wanted to have, or thought you should have. Something should happen. But you were drained. And he was there, in your apartment, in your bed, after a hard month, after looking over to your vacant left side so many times for so many nights.

Kylo remained staring at your back from his spot, not exactly certain if he should say something or do something. Yet fatigue was oddly and rapidly taking over him, like he could finally rest. Four more eyeblinks and unconsciousness stole his worries.

When Kylo woke up you still slept. As he faced you and the window, he could see the overcast aurora attempting to push the crepuscule away. He could hardly believe he had slept through the night. Looking at how your hair fell around your dour face then turned to him, he envisioned you hadn't gotten much shuteye. Pandiculating, he woke you, unintentionally, catching a glimpse of your opened eyes and morning poutiness and attempting to prevent his own body from continuing the reflex, gleaming eyes focused on you, lips sealed as the rest of the yawn escaped through his nose.

You simply watched him curl up on his right flank once again and repay you the same stare.

"What are you doing here?" 

Took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts.

"I wanted to see you."

You felt an odd ticklish spasm inside your dextral nostril, by the septum cartilage.

"Why?"

Hooded eyes lowered, lost, pondering, his plush lips parting as if an answer was about to be supplied, yet joined once more, being pushed forward in a grumpy, childish manner, _masseters_ flexing, those shiver-causing hazel lamps steadying on yours, reiteratively.

"I wanted you."

"Hmm..." You remained quiet for a long while, sniffling the grogginess away, fingertips insistently removing the sleepy sand off the corners of your eyes, your head pointing upwards towards the high stripped ceiling as you searched for what to say, "I'm... not sure... I can do this. Anymore."

With furrowed eyebrows, the behemoth's breathing hastened.

"What can't you do anymore? What does tha-what is tha-what do you mean?"

"I'm not sure. This isn't a job, an occupation, a hobby, you know? At least for me. I can't... uh... separate things... there's a lot of feelings... things I don't know where they come from and things I know where they do. Lot of issues, lot of addiction, which you know... but... I don't know if it's because I always had this... urgency in living and this belief that I'm running out of time that looms over me since I was born, which is kinda stupid be-cause it's true," you chuckled, "Maybe it's because I'm getting older. I don't know. But _this_ , whatever _this_ is, is not all fun and games to me-"

"It never was 'fun and games' to me either-"

"Quiet," you shot, sighing deeply before resuming. "What we were doing was some weird kind of fucking therapy and feeding off each other's emotional states and... mental issues and... behaviors... and you're my best friend. My closest friend. You know a lot of shit about me no one knows and no one cares about and that I would never tell nor show anyone... and you mean so much to me that I keep losing sight of what this is supposed to be... And because of that I feel hurt with some things you say and some things you do. This just needs to stop."

By the time you were done, you were both sitting on the bed, slightly facing each other, Kylo attentively listening to you with a morose mien while you tried to explain the unexplainable without spilling too many of the beans, clutching to the comforter against your chest.

He swallowed, following the words about to exit his mouth from your hands on your lap to his.

"I can't let you go. You're mine."

"Me and how many more?"

"They mean nothing, it's not the same. We have a contract."

"Right..."

"You're my only friend. My only real friend. You also know way more about me than anyone should, you _live_ my intimacy... And I'm not talking about sex only, you know that. I like you..."

"Yeah, but we're not seven."

"You deserve good things."

"I don't want 'good things'... 'Good things' always break in my hands."

The imminent tears made your eyes even more scintillating, the morning star making its way through the sky, casting a soft light on both of you.

"I'm your Master because I need you. I don't want to hurt you... you're the most treasurable, inestimable-"

"'Thing'?" you bitingly gambled.

"Soul," he concluded. "I need you, but I shouldn't have you. Yet... you feel... right. I can't force you to continue something you don't want... but you own me as much as I own you, _know_ that."

You shook your head at that ending. It simply could not be true, different feelings could not be measured using the same unit.

"I don't, I don't own you as much as you do me, I don't own you at all!"

"Yes, you do."

"How can we compare oranges with apples?"

"It's not oranges and apples! It's the same thing!"

"No, it isn't. You don't know!"

"Then why don't you tell me?"

You couldn't. You wanted to, but you couldn't. You still wanted that deal, that relationship, you still wanted him. How could you not? He was everything to you, even if he would never know.

Tensely rattling, you surged onto him, drawing the duvet from his frame and pushing your half away as you mounted his lap, holding tightly onto his shoulders, Kylo's bulging arms embracing your waist, massive hands squeezing the flesh over your hip bone and over your _trapezius_ , both burrowing into each other's necks.

"Don't stop this, I need you... Don't you want this?"

"I want you so much, Ren... So much," your voice became smaller, starting to whimper.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," he allowed his body and yours to repose on the mattress, rolling gently to top you, removing strands of hair from your face, "don't cry, don't cry... Shh... Don't cry... You look so beautiful..."

He drooled on his fingers and saturated your entrance, teary-eyed as he watched you break for him, driving the monstrous cock he possessed into you, snagging your skin, prying through the tightened muscles and hearing you wail and moan. Arched over you, his mouth left kisses under your jaw and muted words sewn into your skin that he had yet to say out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, listen to Ren slipping a compliment in there, 4,000 years after his last one! 
> 
> Some visuals:  
> Ren's shoes: [here](http://tinyurl.com/ms8e8mp)  
> Ren's rings: [Versace's Medusa](http://tinyurl.com/lgke897) and [cement textured band](http://tinyurl.com/mhpwnkk)  
> Ren's wallet: [closed](http://tinyurl.com/mjum4r3) and [open](http://tinyurl.com/mckew6l)  
> Ren's clothes: [t-shirt](http://tinyurl.com/kqz3xm6), [green stripe socks](http://tinyurl.com/lrkb277), [performance boxer-briefs](http://tinyurl.com/kuomn26)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	58. Catalyst

A loud noise caught you attention. The phone vibrated next to your head, Kylo's phone, on the smooth American walnut sturdy dining table, his left hand sloppily swatting it further away. Sturdy indeed, because you were being rammed by that beast on top of it. Your eyes had shot to the convulsing device but the hand that had dismissed it was the same that clenched on your jaw and forced you to look back at your Master as he slowed his thrusts and fully sat his massive cock thoroughly coated in your juices inside of you, making you wince and try hard not to cry out.

"What is it, slut? Is it hurting? Good, because now you're going to take it all the way in until I grace your existence with my cum," he swiftly removed his cruel dick from within you and whipped your clit hard, twice in a row with the tip of his fingers, your voice cracking mid wail and your knees reflexively joining to attempt protection. 

But he was between your legs and your knees hit his ribs. It hadn't been that strong but his eyes were suddenly drilling holes through you, so much anger in them. You knew asking for forgiveness would ameliorate nothing. He pulled you from the table and turned you on your stomach like you weighed nothing, tucking your legs on top of the bulky wooden surface and spreading them as much as they'd go, leaving you completely open for him. Yanking you by the hair, bent over your curling frame, he whispered.

"Let's see if my filthy little pet likes this..." 

All at once he slid himself into your cunt, hitting your cervix and coming up with a steady, fast paced rhythm that allowed no coherent thoughts to formulate in your mind. Your body was sticking to the tabletop, which shook and inched forward every so often with the strength applied, your ass and thighs shaking, throat beginning to release the sobs that accompanied the salty tears he couldn't see.

Kylo only had time to jerk himself once before irregular thick jets of cum were directed to your bottom, ivory oozy splatters being smeared by his strong digits, before flipping you over again and lowering on his knees. That expert tongue of his made its way as deep as it could go in your pussy, brazenly slurping and humming before his teeth closed on the fragile flesh of your thighs, painful screams and more tears. Focusing on your clit, he flicked it with the tip of his tongue prior to engaging the metal in it, getting dragged across your throbbing nub, catching on the hood and turning sobs into wanton moans. 

And then he stopped, ceased all action and stood up straight.

"You're not cumming today," baritone voice flowing through puffed lips as intoxicating as clusters of raw cinnabar from Guìzhōu.

All your skin tightened at the sound and at the sight, eyes closing as you quelled in discipline, Kylo's hand resting atop your stomach, fingerpads slightly pressing on, pulsating, palpating towards your breasts. The herculean man pulled you to a sitting position by the back of your upper arms, then guiding your limbs towards his shoulders and lifting you from the tarnished surface, rounding it as he carried you and lowering you as he leaned sideways.

"Pick it up," he raised his eyebrows, indicating his cell phone.

You did as instructed and he hauled you to the kitchen, where he released you by the sink, input his screen unlocking code and asked you to check who texted him while he turned on the faucet and rinsed the both of you with cold water.

"It's from Matt," you informed.

"What does it say?"

"He's asking if you're down to go to Vermont."

"Are you?" he threw your way.

"What? He's asking you..."

"Remember when he promised my niece he would take her camping?"

"Yyyeeesss..."

"Well, it's not exactly camping, but Skywalker has a cabin in Vermont where we used to go growing up and Matt talked to him and asked if we could take the kids there for a weekend."

"Is he going too?"

"No," he wiped your back and butt down with a damp, freezing rag.

"Whoooo is going?" you winced.

"My brothers and the kids. Can you go? It's just a weekend... We'll be back Monday, early afternoon or so. Ben and Matt might leave Sunday evening, because of work and school."

"Oh-kay. Okay, I'll go."

"Are you sure? I know it's in less than a week, but-"

"No, no, I'll go."

"Alright, thank you," he kissed your neck, spreading your butt cheeks and continuing to clean you, "reply to him, say we're both going."

You identified yourself in the answer and told Matt he could count on both of you for the weekend.

 

*

 

Stuck in traffic by the time you sent the reply, Matt almost felt compelled to extend the conversation, but the name of his triplet on the top reminded him that you were with Kylo, using his phone. He did consider sending your number a text but that would be blatant. But... was he truly doing anything wrong? How _together_  were you and Kylo anyway? And what were you doing when he texted his brother? Your reply had taken some time to come... Not exactly, but his mind insisted on the questions. He willed away the possible answers, refusing to dwell anymore on it as he sat in Manhattan traffic going East. 

Something had happened, sirens were heard a few blocks away. Sighing, he checked the time and turned on the radio, letting it play quietly in the background, attempting whatever resembled a decision regarding continuing work once he arrived home or actually order food, and if so, what _cuisine_ should he be having that Monday evening.

He entered his apartment carrying a bag with enough Indian food for two days, an hour and thirty-eight minutes after, cell affixed to his right ear as he listened to his mother speak about her last trip to the refugee camps in Ethiopia and how much the situation had deteriorated in the last four years.

"... Mother... Hmm, mother, I don't mean to be rude and you do know I care about your work, but I just got home and I'm really hungry... Yeah, there was a late protest gathering, at least that's what it seemed like... and I can't get mad at who's right. The point here is, can we continue this later, tomorrow? I migh-by email? Perfect. I'm sorry, I gotta go. Yes, alright, love you too, mom. Bye," he rushed the already twenty-minute long chat, having been a comfortable social barrier when he had to wait at the restaurant for his order to be ready, but after a nerve-wracking twelve-hour workday full of malfunctions and incompetence, he wished he could have gone to bed and stayed there the rest of the week. And it was only Monday.

Matt washed his hands and removed all styrofoam containers from the plastic bag reinforced with yet another plastic bag, feeling incredibly guilty, having a camping trip planned and accumulating such a huge amount of nature cancer just from those meals alone. Chewing on his lip, he eyed the containers for some time before moving to fetch a plate and a fork, serving himself of _pulihora_ , some lamb _tikka masala_ and _bebinka_ , and pulling a piece of _paratha roti_ , stacking main course, dessert and bread, setting it in the living room and going back for the already opened carton of lychee juice drink in his fridge.

After an episode of a random animal show on mantis and black mambas, he turned the TV off and shoved dirty tableware into the washing machine, thinking about the phone in his front pocket as the path to his room was automatically perambulated, undershirt removed and tossed in the wash along boxers and socks, pants undressed and set atop his desk chair, on hold to be worn on another day, fresh undergarments picked from the insides of his dresser's drawer and numbly going to shower.

As he aggressively toweled his bleached locks, Matt faced the mirror and stared at his mop, deciding he would deal with it the following morning, turning the sink's hot water on and plugging it, gathering the cedar-scented shaving gel and razor blade while the liquid pooled, feeling his chin and jaw with the tips of his digits, fibers not too visible yet but already felt. Pores dilated from the temperature of both fluid and steam, he lathered his skin from lobe to lobe, not forgetting the upper lip and his neck, wetting the four-tiered razor and beginning from his left ear inwards, in gentle, contained gestures, always with the grain, pulling the _dermis_ over his throat tightly down and tilting his head back to get the persistent thicker hairs on his lower jaw and under his chin, consistently dipping the blade in the tepid water to dispose of foam, stubble and dead cells. He shaved down his _philtrum_ , delineating his lips in a diagonal outwards motion and turning his razor upside down, placing his tongue between bottom teeth and lower lip, pressing on the _frenulum labii inferioris_ to be able to get a close shave under his mouth, then along his _collum_. It was a tedious chore, simply due to the need to avoid the small amount of _melanocytic nevus_ he had. Growing up, his two brothers had had a much harder time, nicks and cuts after an hour of labor. Rinsing his face, Matt patted it dry and applied an aftershaving cream gel of the same smell, calming his sensitive skin.

Finally able to completely relax, the spurious blonde readied his clothes for the next day, turned off all lights in the tranquil apartment and laid in his bed, first neatly, then stretching himself and taking up the entire width of his mattress, sighing and closing his eyes.

He must have spent about thirty minutes tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable position to let sleep take him. In the dark, the giant felt for his mobile placed on the messy nightstand, unlocking his dimmed screen and opening his gallery, looking for the beach photos he took in Florida, scrolling through dozens of thumbnails featuring his niece and nephew and the marine landscapes that surrounded him during those days, opening the pictures where he caught you, laying on your towel or walking to the ocean or playing with the kids, little bit more of you showing than them in such images.

You and your swimwear...

Matt zoomed in on your face, when it had been captured, a smirk twitching on his lit countenance, dissolving when his fingertip pulled the images upwards, his heartbeat slightly faster and his hooded eyes barely open yet stuck on your figure. 

He lowered a hand to his shorts, feeling his cock hardening, trapped in a cage of fabric. 

Though not for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dem visuals:  
> Ren's table (because I offered the visual before when barely talking about it on a previous chapter): [here](http://tinyurl.com/kskbv3u) (table only)  
> Matt's food: [pulihora](http://tinyurl.com/m6rohcj) (lemon rice with tamarind), [chicken tikka masala](http://tinyurl.com/k4ugasj), [bebinka](http://tinyurl.com/ms6r9pa) (type of pudding cake) and [paratha roti](http://tinyurl.com/lapfy2l)  
> Matt's shaving cream: [here](http://tinyurl.com/lefvbhz)  
> Matt's aftershave: [here](http://tinyurl.com/l64vuv4)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	59. Entry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's currently past 3 a.m. This wasn't planned, but had to come out. One of those chapters that should probably not be a part of this or should be removed later. We'll see.

" _Have you ever gotten so incredibly mad at someone for just speaking? Breathing? This kind of anger that builds inside of you, slow or fast - it all depends perhaps on the person, on the subject, on the surroundings - and you can't stop it? This hate for human life and how pitiful their complaints are? How they're so upset because their food was not hot when it was served or because they have to change a lightbulb? How they get emotional because they slept badly for a couple of nights so they think the world needs to know it and pat them on their heads, saying 'there, there, you're so strong, you don't deserve this, everything will be fine'. Because they have a 'fine' setting. They can overcome their little boo-boos they believe to be so deep and troubling. And maybe they are: after all, we all can bear different levels of pain, whether it's emotional or physical. And our own trials are always the worst, because they hurt_ us _, right? There can be spectators and those affected by second-hand pain like second-hand smoke, but... they don't truly feel it. Right? Yeah... Then there are those who rant, complain, vomit all the words over you and apologize, seemingly self-conscious of the burden they're inflicting on you. Or are they? Many add this little touch in order for you to say that 'no, you never bother, I'm here for you'. A slightly different pat on the head, the attention seeking one._

_Personalities. Psychology. It all comes down to it, how we deal with ourselves and others and the world. And how guilty others make you feel, how well you can see and acknowledge that, how much you do it because you'll need the validation they will bring later on. 'Validation'. The word tastes like rotting garbage in my mouth. How these current times seem to be abusing and destroying language! Maybe because I have never been coddled, never heard a 'good job' growing up. And I excelled at everything I set my mind on! Yet I could only look at non-existent flaws and slightly less perfect outcomes._

_I had to laugh now, because I typed it like it doesn't affect me anymore, but the exact same thing still happens today. However, I would never_ not _be me. In a world of participation trophies and overelated egos, I would never not be the obsessively, obscenely observant and ominously overloaded, odd me, as full of defects as the eye can see and how those are layered upon a map of traits and behaviors, hills and caverns that scream and hide and hurt and hurt and... and I don't remember_ turning _like this,_ getting _like this. There were never happier times, lighter days. It was born with me and it will die with me and there aren't enough pills nor treatments nor good intended people that will ever change this. It's me. And 'you can make your own fate!' I love when people say this, those confident, ignorant atom clusters. Because you can indeed fight. You can try and try and want better and go for different and change all your circumstances! But if it's in you, if it's who you are... you can't run from it. People don't change. They deceit, they pretend, they might even live a full life attempting and apparently succeeding at being someone else!_

_Key words: 'attempting'; 'apparently'._

_Some say that to claim that 'you are who you are' is a simple and dismissive way of excusing yourself and your poor behavior, not taking responsibility for your errors. They are correct. But they are also wrong. For while this might be used to justify laziness, rudeness, injustice, outrageousness, it is also true. Unless your brain changes, you do not change. Whether it's an accident, a medical procedure or brainwashing. We have concussions, blood clots, aneurysms, religions, hypnotism, among a large number of factual, palpable and abstract reasons, conditions and events that might change our brains. But unless they change, we won't. We don't. Nevertheless, do take responsibility. Accept it._  
_Who am I writing to? And what about? I don't even know anymore... Nothing is ever static, everything is linked and flows in my mind. So if anyone ever reads this, my apologies._

_Something else I despise - apologies. Although I know the world doesn't revolve around me (or maybe it does, since none of this is real, you are not real), I feel guilty for every single nip and cut, and I actively try for other words to come out of my mouth asides from 'I'm sorry'. Because I do feel it, even when it's not my fault. I do wish for no one to suffer and for all to be happy. While also wishing for the human race to implode, as they've been on the verge of for so many centuries, millennia, really._

_I just can't seem to die. And this everlasting burning desire to end my existence won't let me rest. Not truly._

_So, do you want to trade?_ "

You stopped, lifting your hands from the keys and realizing for the umpteenth time how it was all about the same thing - that existence, that suffering, how it was there and had to be there. Self-absorbed and basking in your misery. So in love with tragedy, with its tearing thistles and calescent coals and honorable horns. How could you not love Kylo Ren?

It was a diary of sorts, overwhelming and heinous thoughts, never to be published nor read, never to be found.  
Intimate. Like Ren, who knew them and shared some. Many, as a matter of fact.

Stuck between the sense of inferiority and superiority when considering society, you chuckled bitterly at yourself and wondered why you couldn't feel average, normal, perhaps have dreams of grandiose _façade_ like some. But you didn't. That wasn't you.

You were nothing.

You were all.

You were everything in between, touching the extremes with the soles of your feet, gaining momentum to reach the opposite side. Never stopping.

So exhausted.

Flesh always surprised you with its resistance to perforation. More than to slashing. Experiments, it was all experiments.

Kylo opened the door, mumbling about the warm clothes he mistakenly decided to wear that day, aggravatingly dropping the take out bag on the counter and picking your usual two bowls from the side of the sink where they sat, drying out since he last washed them. He glanced towards the couch and your back, where you were in front of your laptop.

No mouse clicking, no keyboard tapping.

Three strained inhales and exhales, one low nod that spurred his heavy steps in your direction, speed increasing.

Was superficial. Experiments. No hospital, never hospital, just his patch work.

You were fine.

Just exhausted.

That night he held on to you a bit tighter, silently crying into your hair when he thought you were asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapters will feature some nice feelings. Those are written already.
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	60. Sojourn - Part I

"Err... Why did you bring your motorcycle? You have a bag," you lift your eyebrows, glancing at his backpack, "I have a bag, how are we taking these?"

Kylo was siting on the parked Yamaha Supersport outside your house, still wearing his helmet, visor up, and with a spare one hanging from the holder. He eyed your bag, considering the size and what could be inside.

"I am not taking my car into those woods."

"You wanna take my car instead?"

"No. Here," he removed his backpack and gave it to you, "run upstairs and throw our stuff in that really big bag you have. The one you can fit inside?"

"Hm, what if you have to leave earlier?"

"Not going to happen... or if it does, so what? Keep my stuff."

"What if I have to leave earlier?"

"No, you won't."

You laughed at his certainty and turned your back on him to retrieve the neoprene hobo messenger purse that he once claimed to be his, but didn't want it, giving it to you. New. Right... Kylo lifted his helmet enough to uncover his mouth for clarity and yelled for you to bring tights, then slumped on his seat with the vehicle between his legs and checked his phone, texting Matt to let him know you would be on your way soon. Getting off the bike, he inserted the key into the passenger's seat lock, turning it and lifting the cushion as he pulled it forward, clicking the extra helmet off and reinstalling the seat. His brother replied just as you adjusted the headgear's chin strap.

"Matt says he's gassing up outside... Jefferson Valley," he informed, monotonic.

"Oh, he's got... an hour, hour and a half on us? He left early..."

You shook your helmet a bit, trying to fix the folded ear under it and wrapped the strap of your huge carryall with an extra loop around your body so it would be snugger against your back. 

" _We'll pass you_ ," Kylo sent, before pocketing the cell phone and zipping his jacket up, starting the engine and waiting for you to mount the seat.

"Okay," you verbalized, letting him know you were comfortable, holding onto him like a human backpack.

Kylo leaned forward and twisted one eighty to check for incoming vehicles, then quickly lowering his visor, departed from the parking spot behind a stationary car, lot of use given to the brakes as you navigated through the metropolis, higher velocity achieved once you left the boroughs and tore through upstate New York's woods. You did indeed catch on to Matt's metallic Elantra and his unhurriedly driving after about two hours on the road, waving at him as you passed and settling into a steady speed ahead, accompanying him.

According to plan, Ben should be leaving just about then, to join you in their uncle's cabin in Vermont, where he used to retreat to whenever he visited the East Coast. Kylo had no contact with him after he moved from home and got his apartment, still in college. 

 

*

 

All vehicles gathered by the nearby town's main street, Ben having arrived first and picking up food for everyone, after a quick call to Matt. As the three of you pulled over by his Ess Yoo Vee, he was returning with the children, carrying a large pizza. No need to park and exit. Fifteen more minutes and you were all stopping in front of the biggest house up on the mountains you had ever seen.

"I thought this was a 'cabin'..."

The middle triplet's eyebrows lifted, amused, an airy chortle expelled through his nose.

Opening doors and windows, everybody went in and began eating the late lunch provided by Ben, the extra cheese, pepperoni pizza getting a huge dent, while you and Kylo shared a couple of salads: one with grilled herb crusted chicken, granny apple slices and dry cranberries, with toasted almonds and a balsamic dressing; the other one, a honey mustard chicken Cobb salad with avocado.

"I asked them to hold off the cheese because I like you," Ben said, sweeping your right arm and holding your hand, then turning to the eldest triplet, "you, I don't." Kylo flipped him off and sat next to you. "Was pretty surprised they had any rabbit food options, but I didn't want to risk asking for like quinoa and them, like, setting me on fire after looking at me like I'm from somewhere in outer space or something. So, deal with it."

"Can I take your car later to go get groceries? We should cook and not keep going out to town for food," the largest of the hungry men asked him.

"I'll drive you, need to get some not-so-sad snacks for the kids..." then he faced you, "do you mind staying with them?"

"No, no. Will be great," you answered Ben, stabbing a piece of chicken.

"Oh... Oh, you poor thing... 'Will be great'...", he shook his head jokingly, hand on his chest, "Matty will help, won't you?"

"Won't I what?" Matt questioned as he stepped inside, bringing his bag and the kids along with him.

"Help her with the rascals while the Sasquatch and I go to the store?"

"Oh, yeah, of course."

 

*

 

By mid afternoon, groceries had been acquired and Kylo, you and the twins were storing them away and doing some preparations for that evening's dinner while Ben and Matt were outside putting together a pretty spacious camping tent for the kids to play in and experience the outdoors while the lazy adults could stay quite close to the electric plugs. When Cari and Aric finished their share of fridge filling and pantry storing, Kylo told them to go outside and see if Uncle Matt and Dad needed help, to which they promptly ran to, both of you continuing to clean and slice vegetables and season meat.

"What d'you think?" he cut through the reinstated silence.

"About?"

"This place."

"Much bigger than what I was expecting, from the outside alone!"

"Yeah, not sure if Skywalker intended for this place to be a vacation spot alone or a family home... Upper floor has five bedrooms, three bathrooms... A tad much for him to be here by himself. So he used to call her to bring us here, get some training while we were at it..."

You listened attentively, stopping when you were done and looking at him as he spoke - surely seemed like he was in a talkative mood that day!

"Do you... regret it all? Or hate it all?"

"'It all', what?"

"The time spent here."

He shrugged, scowling before answering.

"I liked some of the training. Obviously. But... it always felt like were being dumped here. She would never stay, not even for a week, same thing when we would go visit Skywalker at his place. I don't know..."

After the kitchen was cleaned and prepped food was refrigerated, you joined the others outside. A quite big golden oak and saffron yellow tent stood a couple of feet away from the wrap-around porch and the children seemed to be dragging some of their toys inside. Ren approached his brothers and you went to peek into the provisory one hundred fifty denier polyester taffeta lodging. Inside were two little folding stools, two crates upside down and atop each other to serve as an improvised table, two little sleeping bags still rolled up in one of the corners, a Stitch plushie, a big blonde doll that had seen better days and a toy spaceship. On top of the plastic crates were four vials of nail polish: two solid colors, orange and gray, and two glittery ones, pink hearts with multicolored specks and golden stars.

"Auntie! Auntiiieee! Can I paint your nailth?" Cari excitedly asked.

"Hmm, sure. But I already have them done. Do you have anything I can remove this with?"

The girl looked around and into her tiny Harajuku backpack Ren had purchased in Japan but answered sadly:

"No... I didn't pack it and Dethi didn't either..."

"It's okay though," you tried to cheer her up, sitting on the floor and looking through your color options, "you can use this starry one on me and then I'll do your nails, okay?"

"Yeth! Okay!" she smiled widely, taking a spot in front of you and sitting the doll on one of the seats, "Brunehilde here ith going to wath. Pay attenthion to what I do!" she turned to the mannequin, little index finger stretched in a threatening way, thumb alongside it, making it all the more adorable.

"Well, nice to meet you, Brunehilde!" then you turned to Cari, giving her the already unscrewed nail polish bottle, "so where is she from?"

"Austrasia," Aric replied, reminding you of his quiet presence, "Six hundred... forty... two! Ay Dee," he made up on the spot.

"That old? Is she... still alive?" you whispered towards him as if the doll could hear you, his sister starting to smudge your already manicured nails with the fun glitter.

"No, she's dead. Auntie, look at her... Clearly, she's dead," he answered very matter-of-factually, gesturing to the nonliving creature with a sort of disappointment, causing you to laugh.

"What is going on here?" Ben popped his head in, scaring everyone with the sudden loud question, screeches and laughter abounding.

Ren then crawled his way into the tent, sitting next to you and observing the activities.

"Hi, Uncle Ky."

"Hello, Cari."

"Do you want me to do your nailth?"

He remained quiet for a moment, studying her skill or lack of it.

"No, you're busy. I'll do my own," he replied.

"What color do you want?" Aric offered, quite wide-eyed.

"Hmm, gray."

The boy passed him the tiny bottle and sat ahead of him to watch how such huge hands handled something so small.

"Cari, you better hurry cause I wanna do yours before dinner!" you tried to urge the girl, who had become distracted with her father's brother.

"Okay. Don't you want thparkleth, Uncle Ky?"

"Don't I want what?" he inquired, cross-legged, hand over knee as he hulked over it, carefully trying not to paint over the skin.

"Gli-tterrr!" she exaggerated.

"No, no, I'm good, thank you."

As you finally began doing the girl's nails with the orange color first, you kept glancing at Aric, too enraptured by what his uncle was doing.

"Hey Pooh-bear, don't you wanna get your little nails done?"

He looked in your direction and then at his own hands spread out ahead of him, trying to imagine. Kylo closed the bottle, done, and observed his reaction.

"No..."

"You sure? Uncle Ky did his... He can do yours too, if you'd like..."

The boy studied the large paws related to him, then staring at his uncle's face and agreeing, choosing the glittery stars as well.

At that point, you had started to layer on the mix of hearts and speckles over Cari's nails and stopped to monitor the endearing sight of the blimp-sized triplet attempting to coat the boy's nail bed with decorative golden stars, teeny extremities propped on the man's knees.

Ben hosed down the grill and roughly scrubbed it down, finicky with the possible large amount of time gone by between then and the last time it had been used, Ren helping and fetching the food to be laid on the grill after, as the youngest triplet started the fire. Matt's attention had been stolen by his niece and her antics, putting her own t-shirt on rubbery Brunehilde and marching around with her knit skirt's waistband around her chest, two big leaves she found on the floor being tucked on her back by the blonde. Possibly wings? Probably wings. The boy chose a spot in front of you on the steps that led to the cabin and asked if you would mind putting his hair up and away from his face for the incoming meal time. You smiled, happy to play with his thick, wavy mane and signaling him to sit one step above in between your thighs, dividing the cascading licorice locks into two huge pieces after delicately untangling the knots, beginning to braid each section into a flat fishtail. He sat still, for as much time as it took, all triplets glancing towards the both of you every now and again, Cari going to inspect your work, quietly, all smiley at you and kissing your cheek while your hands were busy. 

"Do you want me to do your hair too?"

"Not today, tomorrow," she answered hushedly, holding her ponytail straight up above her head. 

 

*

 

A hard blow taken to the right buttcheek, his despotic, heavy hand subsequently forced you to bend forward over the cushiony surface, Kylo guiding your knees onto the mattress, forcefully causing your back to arch while hugging your ass as you were folded in half, his face buried in it, tongue-fucking the tightest hole, quiet sighs making past your lips and onto the sheets.

A knock on the door.

"Go away," his deep voice ordered.

"Wait... No, Ren, wait... Was too soft... It's not your brothers."

He stopped and you redressed the oversized t-shirt and underwear, while he annoyingly exhaled and readjusted the stiffening member in his pants the best he could, opening the door after glancing back at you. 

Not an adult indeed.

"Uncle Ky, can I sleep with you and Auntie?"

The behemoth stared at the small human before him from the top of his six and a half feet.

"Why aren't you in bed with Dad?"

"Cari moves a lot and I can't sleep."

"What about Uncle Matt? There's more space there." The child lowered his gaze to the floor, no longer sporting the tight plaits you had woven, shower taken, his little right paw pulling on the left one's fingers. "What is it?"

"I wanna sleep with Auntie," said the tiniest voice, "you could go sleep with Uncle Matt..."

"No, I can't-"

"Let him in. It's just for tonight," you spoke softly to Ren, who looked back at you, betrayed, and informed he would be going to the bathroom.

Aric walked in and climbed on the bed, wearing a space cadet-toned, appropriately space themed long sleeve and pants pajama slightly too big for him though.

"You're going to be too hot with that. Uncle Ky is very warm. Hold on," you jumped down and searched among your belongings for a t-shirt that would fit the kid and brought it to him, "let's try this instead, you'll sweat during the night with those PJ's."

You left him to change clothes and pulled the bedding open, quickly folding the sweater he took off when he placed it on the bed as well as the pants.

"Can I get in?"

"Did you pee already?"

"Yes."

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"Yes."

"Are you lying to me?"

"No."

"Let me see," you asked, approaching him as he smiled wide to show his teeth and then opened his mouth for further inspection, "hm, okay. Hop in."

Kylo returned from the restroom, eyebrows still furrowed.

"No, no, no," he butted in, seeing his nephew in the middle of the mattress, "pick a side, you're not going to sleep in the middle."

The boy got on his knees and faced the pillows, evaluating, then turned to you, folded hands over his lap.

"Which side is yours?", he softly asked and you gestured towards yourself to his left, "I want this one," he replied shyly to his uncle, pointing a short index to your cushion.

The huge man couldn't help but chuckle.

You folded the boy's sleeves up three times, attempting to make the overlay as flat as possible not to bother him during the night and the three of you got into bed, a fresh sheet being pulled over the lower part of its occupants, you between the two boys, both turned in your direction, Ren at your back and Aric sharing your pillow, whispery conversations ensuing.

"Did you have fun today?", you questioned.

"Yes," his big gray, goldenrod eyes stared at your features in the low light, "I liked playing in the tent outside."

"Did you enjoy putting the tent together?"

"Daddy and Uncle Matt did most of the work. But I liked helping."

"What about tomorrow? What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know," he paused and seemed to be thinking about it, pressing his lips together like the triplets did, "maybe we could go explore. Daddy said there's a lake."

"There is? But I'm not sure if it's safe to go there. So what else could we do, if we can't go there?"

"Hmm," he tapped the pads of his digits over his face and once he thought of something, he placed them excitedly over your cheeks, "we could build a fairy house!"

"We could! Did you ever build one before?"

"No, but I know we need sticks and rocks and... leaves. And feathers..."

You talked a while longer, making plans and finding his opinion on bears, wolves and owls - he liked them all, but the owl's eyes scared him - and then he yawned, big.

Glistening eyes wanting to rest and tiny, sleepy fingers playing with your chin and cheeks, Kylo listening to the entire ordeal.

"Let me see your nails," without letting go of your face with one hand, he displayed only his dextral one, "they're very pretty, you liked having them done?"

"Yes," the child slurred his words, blinking slowly, "like Uncle Ky."

"And did you thank him already?" Aric nodded, "good boy. Time for sleepy bye?"

He lifted his head from the pillow and smooched you, a wild disarray of curls falling over his eyes.

"I love you, Auntie."

"I love you too, baby. Tell good night to Uncle Ky."

The sleepy twin's upper limbs and torso went over your waist, overcoming the human barrier between both males.

"Night night, Uncle Ky," they stumbingly pecked on the lips, "I love you."

"I love you too, peanut."

You eased the boy back to your side and he slotted his head beneath your chin, your digits freeing his face and neck of hair.

Silently, you watched him for a bit, pulling away just enough.

"He sucks his thumb."

The man behind you propped himself on the arm underneath the pillows and peeked over your shoulder.

"Perpetuating the crooked teeth trait," he laid back down, "his sister too, that's why she can't say her Esses. Guess we all have anxiety and an oral fixation..."

You kept observing the snoozing boy. And the more you lingered, the more these feelings of sadness were taking over you, thinking about the future and the twins. You sniffed and swallowed, continuing to comb Aric's heavy tresses back, his forehead relaxed. They had their mother's hair color, so similar to their stoic uncle's, texture could be a toss between both parties - but it felt a tad drier, so you wanted to say it was hers. They had her skin tone too.

"What is it?" he questioned from your back. 

Another sniffle, face thoroughly wet with tears by then.

"Nothing," you lied, breathed in, stiffed a shake. "He's so beautiful. And intelligent. Observant... We can tell, can't we? That he's gonna hurt. He's not just shy... He's going to be in pain."

Kylo's gaze was lost, listening. The man's jaw tensed, pouty lips twitching, swallowing saliva.

"That's our curse."

He could see his childhood, you could see yours, both adults who only got worse, much worse, but learned to manage, tripping and falling, crawling through life.

You wrapped your arm around the child nested against you, kissing the top of his head and smelling his freshly washed hair. 

At your back, he hesitated, fighting an unseen battle with his own mind. Ren got closer to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big chapter, huh? And I had to contain myself.
> 
> Prepare for The Visuals:  
> Ren's motorcycle: [2008 Yamaha Supersport YZF-R1](http://tinyurl.com/kz8ors2)  
> Ren's backpack: [here](http://tinyurl.com/ny25qjj) (wow, it's not black!)  
> Reader's big bag: [Demobaza](http://tinyurl.com/le4fao7)  
> Helmets: [Ren's](http://tinyurl.com/ko7gxws) and [Reader's](http://tinyurl.com/k3n6z4l)  
> Ren's clothes: [bomber jacket with hood](http://tinyurl.com/mjtt62k), (and while we're at it...) [knit t-shirt](http://tinyurl.com/ktkle8f), [pants](http://tinyurl.com/l25mabo), [gloves](http://tinyurl.com/n6wbun2) and [boots](http://tinyurl.com/jurqs67)  
> Salads: [apple cranberry salad](http://tinyurl.com/lmwbqql) (removed some stuff and added others on the chapter) and [honey mustard chicken Cobb salad](http://tinyurl.com/lly8dxv)  
> Children's tent: [North Face](http://tinyurl.com/k84tctp)  
> Cari's backpack: [here](http://tinyurl.com/n8vg2ql)  
> Aric's pajamas: [here](http://tinyurl.com/l2kbg4l)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	61. Sojourn - Part II

The following morning, everyone sat around to have breakfast and discuss the trail to the lake Aric had mentioned - the plan being to pack lunch and head out into the woods as soon as you were all ready. The triplets hadn't been to those woods since they were about thirteen, but they still had "a pretty good idea" of how to get there. Didn't sound too promising.

"Bathing suit, doll face," Ben dramatically pointed at you, two chairs away, "bathing," he breathed in, "suit," expelled with the air in his lungs.

"We can go thwimming, Daddy?" asked his daughter from the couch.

"If nothing weird lives underwater," Kylo remarked, the youngest brother looking him dead-on, eyes wide as saucers.

"You tryin' to give her nightmares? If she can't sleep, Imma send her to your room!"

"No, ya not! I already had to sleep with one of your kids last night! I ain't having any more children in my bed!" the hushed, threatening tone of the argument made it the more funny.

"I am so gonna send her to your room, shit's not even funny now! Orrr... You'll just come to my room and deal with both of them, up all night, and I'll go to yours and do the same. How 'bout that? It _does_ sound better..."

The blonde brother, quiet till then, choked, all heads turning to him, Kylo's gaze burning holes through both of his brothers' heads.

"Ah, Benny Boy," you got up and circled behind him, patting his back and leaning into his ear, "no."

"By 'no'... do you mean 'yes'?"

"Dude," Matt stared at the youngest sibling, full grimace displayed on his semblance.

"What? What? Do you really think I would not take her word? Fuck you, man!"

Throwing the last piece of toast he had been nibbling on onto the plate, where it bounced off to the table, Ben got up, called his kids and went upstairs. The remainder three of you simply stood there.

"I know you meant well, but I know he was joking. He can be an ass, but we know it's all just talk," you turned to Matt.

"Still, if the kids would hear him, that's one step towards being raised a misogynist," Kylo offered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He's... He's actually truly good at preventing that," Matt started, "he's been really on the case to show them equality and equity, and... you know he raises them with no differences between them," he reminded his triplet, "but... I don't know... Maybe it's stress at work or at home... Or it's when we all get together... Sometimes he just _says_ these things, right? Maybe I overreacted... And I know you don't need anyone to defend you," he glanced at you, then lowered his eyes to his clutched hands, fingertips pressing against the back of them, he let it trail off.

"I'll go talk to him. You guys get stuff ready to go."

"He's going to feel embarrassed," Matt warned.

"Perhaps, but we didn't all come here to get angry at each other and be in our rooms all day. We can do that at home. We're going to that fucking lake or get lost trying and having to call a ranger for rescue. But we're doing something for those kids!"

You hopped up the stairs and left the two men behind to come up with meals. Reaching the bedroom the little family was in, you knocked though the door was open, triggering the twins to look at you, Ben lifting his sight towards you from the garments Cari was showing on the bed, also offering a simper and you walked in, letting the children show you their chosen swimwear and asking them to show the items to their uncles and help them with lunch.

They went on their way.

"My son is very much in love with you, what did you do?"

You took a spot on the same bed.

"Nothing, just... I don't know, listened, watched. Aric is sensitive. You know that."

"Yeah," he smiled down at his hands, staring at them in thought, "I'm sorry. For what I said. I hope ya know I do respect you and I would ne-"

"I know. You're an agitator."

"Am I that annoying?"

"Did I ever stopped talking to you? Or hit you really hard? Then no. Well... It _can_ get really annoying, but when you die of makeup poisoning you'll realize you shouldn't have randomly and constantly licked my face."

He snorted.

"I will keep licking your face though."

"Why?"

"Who the fuck knows?"

You both laughed, unwilling to linger on the possible theories.

"Matt is sorry," you let him know.

"I'll kick his ass later. The big one needs to apologize to my daughter."

"She didn't hear him..."

"Maybe. But if she dreams of some lagoon creature, guess whom I'll be bothering in the middle of the night?"

"He'll kick your ass."

"He'll kick my ass," Ben nodded, absorbed in his own recollection of past fights with the morose Colossus and how he would always lose. He looked at you, scrutinizing, "Desiree told me you're not together."

"We're not... Not really," you offered, pragmatically.

"When did that happen?"

"When did what happen? We were never _together_... Desi talks a lot."

"She does. So, you' just fuckin' him?"

You adverted your eyes from him, your own lap becoming the spotlight for your immediately perceived reaction, nodding your head along, "mhm".

"Oh... He's fuckin' you..."

A deep inhale attempted to break you away from those thoughts.

"So why isn't Desiree here?"

"She had to work this weekend, couple of parties happening and she likes doing things herself and not just delegate tasks, you know," an unpracticed speech still flowing smoothly.

You stared at Ben, his features relaxed.

"You know... I never thought that you, of all people, would be such a bad liar..."

"So are you..." He smiled widely, slightly misaligned teeth biting his lower lip pulled into his mouth, slowly becoming serious, both of his hands pulling your own towards himself, flipping them up. 

"The fuck 'you doing?"

He inspected the inside of your wrists.

"These are fresh. My kids asked about them."

"What did you say?" you questioned, crossing your arms over your knee.

"That they should ask you."

"They haven't."

"Yet. I had to have a very early conversation with them about marks and how some of them are accidents and some appear because people are sad. I mean, look at Kylo. Kids are curious... and mine had to get used to them and even be comfortable around them. You think they had never noticed yours? They are just not as... loud as his."

Your head dropped hearing Ben talking, feeling guilty over exposing innocents to something that was just yours and had nothing to do with them.

"I'm sorry."

"Why? Because I have to tell my children how the world works? I would have to do it anyway. I simply had to start explaining that much earlier on," he shrugged, combing his dark umber locks away from his temples and cheeks. "Buuut, you should probably wrap them with something. Or the skin will peel off in the water and take longer to heal."

"So we're down to go to the lake?" you asked as he got up from the mattress and walked to the small suitcase that contained both his children's clothes as well as his.

"Pff, damn right we are!" plucking a pair of O'Neill board shorts in several shades of blue from the pile of semi-folded garments, he removed his t-shirt and began taking off his shorts, pausing to see you get up from his bed and move to the door, taking two long steps to catch up with you, "wait! Wait... Did you bring... that ruched bikini from the oth-ow!"

You smacked his right arm three times as he shrunk away and laughed.

"You were doing so well, you fucker," you snickered on the way to your room.

"Wear it! Please! Pleeaase!" the tall man begged jokingly, still holding on to his bottoms.

 

*

 

A large clearing finally appeared before your eyes after half an hour of walking and a couple of complaints from the little ones, an old wooden makeshift pier still standing, built by one of the families that owned a vacation home up in the mountain, the boardwalk stretching ahead of you having been constructed somewhere in the sixties. Or at least that was what the boys were told by their uncle, one of the last times they had gathered there.

"I'm not sure I wanna step on it. Might be a hazard," Matt remarked.

The oldest of the adults advanced towards it, carefully pacing and evaluating creaks and the giving of the wood under him.

"Seems fine," he graded at last, "as long as we don't jump on it."

Both you and Ben held on to the twins' hands, escorting them closer to the water and inspecting it - was dark, supposedly not too deep and a little vast, extending further more than you expected initially. Had become a common thing that weekend.

"So... Who is going first?" chirped the blonde, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his Roman nose.

You all looked among yourselves.

"We're short, we're not going first," you gestured with your free hand in a circular and inclusive fashion towards the kids and yourself.

"Of course not. I'll go," Ben let go of his son's hand, pulled the desire red colored t-shirt off his back and reluctantly joined Kylo on the rickety pier, stepping slowly yet attempting to look dauntless.

Eyeing the murky water and noticing there was no glimpse of the bottom nor of what could be waiting to chomp a chunk off their rib cages, he clenched his hands together and rubbed them apprehensively. Suddenly, he forcefully pushed against the chest of the man next to him, who lost his balance and whose arms scurried towards his triplet, catching him by the left wrist, both falling into the water with a huge splash, honestly quite favored that no one's shins hit the boardwalk on the way down. 

Matt ran to the epicenter and you dashed to seize the children who screamed and were about to take off after the adults. They quickly surfaced though, the blonde stopping in his tracks, the other two fighting their way up the wooden area. Turning your back on them, you let the three men deal with whatever they had to deal with, while you focused on the two tiny worried pouts, hugging both of them and kissing their little cheeks, telling them everything was alright and that they were only playing, but that they should never push anyone. Tranquilizing them, you said their father and uncle were apologizing to each other, probably a lie. Getting up to your feet, you led them under a sugar maple tree and settled the lunch bag Matt had abandoned and removed their socks and shoes as well as your own, undressing to your bathing suits and accompanying them to the shore, little far from the brothers who were still talking between them. Observing you and the little ones, the men walked to the chosen tree, dropped their clothes there and joined you, quietly.

Three pairs of feet dipped in and out of the lake, getting used to the temperature, and three others, much larger, walked in till the water reached their knees, Matt groaning, being the only one of the males who hadn't experienced the coldness yet.

Fortunately, the day was beautiful - the sun shone, all trees and bushes green with chlorophyll, the soft break of the most imperceptible waves causing a pleasant trickling sound, a couple of birds could be heard, along with the young siblings' giggles and blabbering. Lifting your eyes to the triplets, you found them looking your way: Ren with his decorated arms crossed over his chest, drenched hair dripping down his torso, with the softest expression you had seen since the weekend had started; Matt had his hands on his hips, glancing between you and the babies, tight-lipped simpers offered to everyone as it was his usual, even though you could swear he didn't smile much at you; Ben, also soaked, fingered his hair off his forehead and scratched his shoulder blade as he followed his children's feet kicking the water, then focusing on your midsection to the point where you had to look for yourself to make sure there was nothing wrong with it. He had just spaced out.

"Oh-kay," you interrupted, "let's make mud pies!"

Cari and Aric sat by the break and that was when the girl, without forgetting, asked you to do her hair in a braid under her hat. You sat on the ground behind her and worked with the long jet black tresses after undoing the ponytail she had. The kids dug holes and molded dirt, sprinkling water on it and turning it into mud, flattening some of the shapes and being more creative with some of the others, scouting for little twigs and pebbles to add to their recipes. Once done, you got up from your spot and searched for items for a future fairy house build, if your miniature partners were still up for it. The guys swam for a while, never going too far, Ben revolving back to his children, appraising their creations and making one of his own till you returned with small, leafy branches and a couple more goodies.

"Hey, you have mud on your butt, need help with that?" the audacious brother asked hushedly.

"No, thank you," you answered, setting the items on the ground and entering the lake, bending your knees till your bottom was submerged and rubbing to dissolve the muck away, not venturing into deeper waters.

 

*

 

By mid afternoon you were back on private grounds, both dark haired men going inside and preparing for the evening. You and the blonde one, on the other hand, were planning a very important build, discussing with the twins where should the construction site be. As you walked through the surrounding woods, never distancing too much from the house, the four of you kept picking up materials to better construct such a magical place.

"Here! Thith ith the plathe!" Cari let go of your hand and ran towards a tree stump coming right ahead, "Aric, it'th perfect!"

Approaching the round surface, you all laid the items you had collected on the dirt ground and decided you needed a base of some sort, to make it more welcoming. Matt looked around for fallen trunks and finding moss he called the kids to watch what could be underneath. Using a stick, he roughly perforated around a section big enough for the requested fairy house and, hooking his fingertips underneath, pulled the moss up gently not to rip it in pieces, rotten bark and moist dirt coming along with it, the children inspecting under the greenery slab and finding a panicking worm that caused the little girl to feel repulse.

"Wait, Cari look," you crouched by them and inspected the moss yourself, lest something else be under it, and with soft fingers, pulled the pale worm out of its partially destroyed home, setting it on your open palm, "see? It doesn't do any harm. You can touch it if you like."

Her tense eyebrows didn't relax, even as she watched her uncle's thick index petting along the writhing tube. But she did get curious, asking her father's brother to do it again and observing it from a different angle. Aric was a bit concerned but still chanced it, opening his entire little hand and faintly touching the worm with the very tip of his pointer, widening his eyes when feeling the texture and trying once again. His usually far more fearless sister watched and then wanted to try herself, however she kept shaking and fidgeting.

Giving up, you placed the worm back on the soil from where Matt had lifted the moss sheet from, all participants walking back to the stump, laying the new rug on it and starting to poke the twigs gathered to make a simple structure with the aid of some ash-gray and fallow-hued pebbles and fern green-colored, though with a slight more yellow tint, _Acer saccharum_ leaves and oval _Betula alleghaniensis_ fronds. At the end, little hands very carefully stored the small collection of tan shaded feathers that could have belonged to hawks or even some kind of local grouse, but gave a particular preeminence to a short, dark feather with white splotches along it, possibly from a downy woodpecker, right in the center of the foliage building.

"Are you happy with it?" the man asked the little ones in a mellow tone.

"Yeth."

"Can you take a picture, Uncle Matt? So we can look at it when we miss it?"

"Sure," he answered, "we can take a picture of it and of the both of you with it, how about that?"

Cari wanted to press the digital button on the first one, the twins lining up with the house as their photographer kept on tapping the screen, taking as many as he could while they moved and talked, able to choose the cutest or funniest poses in a post moment.

"Alright, the sun will start to go away pretty soon, so how about we say goodbye to the house?" you shot their way, once the photo shoot was over.

"Okay, but can we hold handth?" the girl inquired, taking her twin's extremity in hers and reaching for her uncle's, approaching the tree base once again, the boy taking your hand too.

They wanted to form a circle around the stump and so you did.

"Hold Auntie'th hand, Uncle Matt!"

He swept along you with his eyes and landed on his niece.

"My hand is dirty."

"The had a worm on her hand! The doethn't care! Hold Auntie'th hand!"

"Alright, but manners?"

"I'm thorry. Pleathe hold Auntie'th dirty hand with your dirty hand, Uncle Matt-pleathe," the girl tried, while the boy was fixed on said mucky paws.

You and the man both laughed at "Uncle Matt-please", finally clasping grips together. The children said their formal farewells to the fairy house, wishing for the walls not to collapse too soon and for some fairy to have her or his safe rest there the following day, hoping for the rain to stay away and not destroy the flimsy roof that the adults built so quickly. Both you and Matt glanced between yourselves sporadically, listening to the inspiriting and jocular speech the pair made. His sizable fist was warm, smudged with soot that became mud with his perspiration and the pressure - it almost felt like you were holding on to nothing. 

He was explicitly _not_ wanting to hold your hand. 

It oddly gave you a heavy feeling in your stomach. Because he wasn't even holding hands normally, he was retracting from it and you didn't understand why. Of course, being thrown off like that made a million thoughts rush though your mind:

Was he mad at you?

What have you done to make him mad at you?

Have you said something that hurt him?

Was it something that was misunderstood?

When did that happen?

Where did that happen?

How could you not notice?

You thought everything was just fine-

"Okay, we can go now!" Cari expressed.

 

*

 

Baths taken and dinner devoured, everyone was gathered in front of the television, Cari and Aric knocking out early, exhausted from the day's activities, their dad and Matt carrying them to the room and putting them to bed, returning after a few minutes to continue watching the bad movie no one had been paying attention till then, always far more distracted with what the twins had been doing and saying. Ben sat next to you, the spot his daughter had vacated, and propped his head on your shoulder, letting his weight crush your left side, his hair tickling your neck. Kylo got up and headed to the kitchen to fix everyone a snack as dinner had been light and the night had just started.

"Thank you. For having patience and keeping up with those monkey butts," Ben expressed.

"No problem, man. They're... They're amazing. You've been doing a really good job."

"By constantly being in panic and feel like my head's on fire? Perhaps," he set his chin over your shoulder, "I know we don't see each other that often now, but they really like you, you know? They love you."

"They tell me so, yeah."

"And they mean it. They're good kids, but they don't just tell everyone they love them..."

Matt was inconspicuously turned to the both of you, feet planted on the couch, knees bent up, scrolling through his phone but paying far more attention to what was happening.

"I love them too. I do. They're real treasures, so smart, so interested in everything and so pure. And they are gorgeous..."

"They are," he smiled. Hearing someone else besides himself compliment his children with honesty felt in their words made him proud. "I wish we would see you more..."

"Ben," you recoiled, sighing, "what's going on? Are you trying to start something? Desi and I might not be best friends or anything, but... what are you doing?"

"I'm not doing anything, just telling you the truth. The descendants like you, I like you, we've known each other for years, I'm just resting my head on your shoulder. Are you okay with that?"

You sighed once again.

"I am, but I... don't want anyone to misunderstand anything. You included."

He neared the shell of your ear and spoke softly so only you could hear, grinning, the middle triplet with his head low towards his device, but looking at his brother.

"I know that if you were interested we would've fucked already. Long time ago."

It was not that you had never been interested - he was a less buff physical duplicate of Ren after all and he did have attributes... but brothers? What a sad, _cliché_ fantasy. You did not want to go there. Besides, you didn't even want to consider how your Master would feel after such betrayal. Right...?

Kylo's barefoot steps snapped you out of your musings, the leviathan carrying three bowls and giving one to Matt, Ben's neck twisting to him as his eyes swept from the sitting man to the standing one offering him the other bowl.

"Move," he growled and took the seat next to you, sharing a bigger bowl of raw baby carrots and celery with peanut butter with you.

You munched on the food, chatting and watching the end of the terrible nineties action flick, deciding to retreat to your chamber after, your bunk companion joining you.

"Can you two please not wake my children up? That's a talk I don't wanna have yet, thank you!" Ben turned on his seat and hugged the sofa's back cushion, his eyes following both of you up the stairs, his oddly quiet relative flicking through the channels, searching for the next film or show to perhaps ignore. Ben stretched back to the empty space on his right side, "so, are ya gonna tell me why instead of one jealous ogre I've been seeing two lately?"

 

*

 

In the room, you could feel Kylo's irritation much better, not being overpowered by the incessant poking and blurbing of his brother. It was almost palpable. You were both silent and you didn't quite know how to act, observing as he uncladded himself and sat on the bed, chin low, eyes closed, just breathing deeply, loudly. Unpocketing your phone, you began working a bit, developing some thoughts that had come to you that afternoon, peeking to the mountainous male every so often, hoping something would give you some sort of clue as to what he wanted or needed or if you should remain shushed and away.

Sensibly twelve minutes later, he lifted his head and forced it back as far as it would go, clearly tense. You immediately exited your notepad app, content automatically saved and awaited, immobile, eyes wide open.

"Come here."

As if lightning struck, you fingers quickly locked the screen and set your cell down on the chair as you rose, feet tracking the path to him. Not sensing you right in front of himself, his slanted hooded eyes opened, catching the spot on the corner that was you. He pointed to the ground in between his feet.

"Kneel, bitch."

A sudden shiver exploded through your chest, fear and need altogether.

You moved inwards in his field of vision, and seeing you still wearing clothes, Kylo yanked you by your left forearm towards him, quickly and roughly extracting your tank top, followed by your bottoms, panties included, stretching them down with hands and even a foot till they were off your legs, pulling your bra up and off without even unclasping it. Forcing you to your knees, he set his large hands over his athletic thighs and exhaled, composing himself.

Took a few seconds, your eyes going from his feet to your balled up hands on your lap.

"Did he touch you?"

"Not inappropriately, Master Ren."

Not the best choice of words.

"Did you touch him?"

"Not inappropriately, Master Ren."

Again.

"Did he make you feel uncomfortable?"

"A little, Master Ren."

"Did you tell him so?"

"I did, Master Ren."

Leaning his head to the right, he examined you.

"Do you want to touch him?"

That depended.

"No, Master Ren."

"You hesitated. Don't lie."

"I am not lying, Master Ren."

"Then tell me as it is."

"I have thought about Ben before, but only out of curiosity, long time ago, Master Ren."

He was quiet for a while.

"We are not exact copies of each other," he vaguely informed. Knowing fairly well that it would prevent nothing, he still proposed, "would you like me to lend you to him?"

Your head shook prior to answering.

"No, Master Ren."

"Good," grabbing a fistful of your hair, he got up and forced you upwards, impelling you to the bed and onto your stomach, "flat, arms straight ahead of you, palms touching. Spread your legs."

As he released you, you followed his instructions and waited with your head propped on your upper arms. The commander kneeled behind you and between your lower limbs, crudely dipping one of his thumbs inside your cunt, reaching the apex on his hand and sampling your state, then removed it, lying over you. With one hand guiding himself, you felt some prodding at your slit.

"Spread more."

Obeying, you also somewhat rose and arched your hips the best you could with such a huge man pressing on you, and in no time the glans of his cock was stretching your flesh and breaching it, pushing forward into you till your jaw clenched and he settled on your cervix, a few inches still out.

"Close your legs a little bit," he allowed, your thighs shutting till they hit his own and couldn't go no more, "you know this is going to hurt..."

It was hurting already.

Planting his hands alongside your bust, he pulled himself back and snapped in, your head hiding past your arms and whining onto the mattress, an oversized paw covering your mouth, as a pattern of both movement and weeps was developed. 

"Shh... You're gonna wake up the kids," came in a murmur, while he scanned around and hauled a pillow closer to the both of you, "here, use this."

Undoing your ordered position, you swiftly embraced the cushion and brought it to your face, Kylo taking it as the visual consent to go harsher on you, one of his knees going over your leg for better traction and crashing his hips against your ass, being compassionate enough to let you stay flattened against the provisional nest. Still, the merciless thickness and length were destroying you. 

"I... fuckin' _hate_... the way he ahhh-looks at you," he started, snatching the pillow from you and vacating your innards, "turn around."

You pivoted in your place and let him pose your physique however he wanted after penetrating you again, your knees folding and meeting, both legs pushed to your left side, twisting at the waist. His digits fanned out and clamped on your flesh, tugging you to him, securing you in your spot, the disturbance in him pouring out.

"Fuckin' despise how he-uhhh... how he talks to you. Trea-treatin' you like fffuckholes... like _his_ fuckholes..."

You had reclaimed the silky pillow to help soften the ungodly sounds coming from you, Kylo quickly taking your right leg and separating it from the other, lowering his torso onto yours, brushing your hair and pulling the muffling pillow enough so he could see your eyes and eyebrows, one hand of his wrapped around your ankle and placing it over his glutes. He barely moved then, a slow tempo establishing.

"You're more than fuckholes... and your holes are _mine_. No one else's."

That spongy pillow was a barrier between your lips, the warmth of brown shades in his eyes searching yours, his member sinking in you and retracting so slowly, the slosh resonance of juices filled the background. It still hurt, it always overwhelmed you, too big, forcing your walls deeper, delicate membranes pressed against by the heavy dick, always making your ass hurt when not even in it, always thrusting against your cervix, always stretching and plugging your entrance, making you sore, making you rip, making you bleed.

Always too much.

Yet all you wanted.

Him and his sandalwood scent, his soft tresses and his hard frame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good god that was long and I HATE having to cut and jump from scene to scene. I'm sorry.
> 
> A few visuals for this chapter, yo:  
> Ben's swim trunks: [O'Neill](http://tinyurl.com/y78owpwv)  
> Ben's t-shirt: [here](http://tinyurl.com/ya86gdy9)  
> Children's bathing suits (not spotlighted, but since I'm at it): [Cari's (green one)](http://tinyurl.com/ybxp33z3) and [Aric's](http://tinyurl.com/y7hwmdaq)  
> Trees and leaves: [Acer saccharum](http://tinyurl.com/yacspwz2) and [ Betula alleghaniensis](http://tinyurl.com/y9mm2mnr)  
> Downy woodpecker: [here](http://tinyurl.com/y8odagcc)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	62. Sojourn - Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never intended for any of this to happen. I'm sorry.

Footfalls along the corridor woke you from the heavy sleep you had fallen into four hours before. If they had waited another sixty minutes, you would've woken for yourself and wouldn't feel so dead. But the damage was done, lumbering steps and lightsome ones going downstairs to get the day kicked off with breakfast. In the meantime, you lingered, asking yourself why were you even alive still. With a yawn, you turned to face the resting giant next to you.

"Fuck!" a shot airy word suddenly escaping your spasming core.

Kylo had startled you, motionless, soft waves overlaying the pillow, slightly turned upwards in your direction, dark eyes watching you from the corner. You rolled back to the opposite side.

"Are you pretending I'm not here?" he whispered.

"No. I'm trying to make time go back." Closing your eyes, two full breaths cycled. "It's not working."

Drawing near you, his dextral arm snaked under your head cushion, left paw twisting your face towards him, pulling the covers back and opening your legs, setting his palm over your slit, middle finger gently petting the entrance without applying any pressure at first, little by little brushing in and making you wetter. Ren took his moistened fingertip and began massaging your clit in circular motions, lightly pulling and pushing the hood in every direction, taking more dampness from your cunt and continuing to rub you, breathing and heartbeat increasing. Opening your eyes, your right hand rose from your flank to his jaw, feeling his skin and the sprouting follicles, pushing his hair behind his ear and letting your extremity smooth down his neck, a soft smirk appearing on his lips and fading away, his eyebrows lifting as he inserted his entire finger inside you, your own twitching when one digit became two, the hand that had been on his chest taking its spot over your breasts, squeezing them. Kylo spread your wetness all over the swollen lips, stroking the hardening nub with increased intensity, lowering his head across your neck so you would moan onto his, obscured by the obsidian curtains of his tresses, his sleepy eyes closing but opening every now and then to catch a glimpse of your hardened nipples being fondled, his cock standing at attention and his scrotum enlarged, retracting, while the hand between your legs became rougher.

You climaxed once, Ren leaving his fingers over your clit and your lips and everything cycling back, another orgasm building from the coming down of the previous one. He needed you nice and wet, rolling you on your stomach and sluggishly entering you when you got on all fours.

Placing his hands on your waist, he let them graze over to your hips and bottom, middle and ring fingers nesting in the fold between your pelvis and thighs in the moment he withdrew.

Then no more tenderness.

Kylo plunged into you at an escalating pace, impaling you from quietude to pandemonium, to distressful aphasia, back to torturous screams, your dumbfounded brain incapacitated to react and effectively attenuate the clamor.

Downstairs, the meal had finished being served, twins and adults conversing and chortling, when the brothers reciprocated a look of puzzlement. For two seconds. Ushering the kids outside as quickly as they could, Ben decided to distract them with the weekly videocall with grandma, usually initiated by Leia, but these were pressing times, the tent and toys needing to be packed and the noise you were making still faintly heard outside. Nevertheless, it came to a halt very soon.

Kylo threw on a pair of compression tights under his basketball shorts, pushing his arms through his t-shirt's sleeve holes as he descended the deck's three steps and helped the youngest triplet to disassemble the large tent, shooting a glance of distaste towards the device the children talked to, Ben deciding to chat as a means to distract both of them from their mother. Leia could somewhat see her sons in the far back.

When you came down the stairs, you found Matt in the kitchen, preparing the twins' luncheons for the road, still chewing his morning eggs, while everyone's half eaten breakfasts remained on the table.

Approaching his side quietly, you then asked if he needed help.

"No, I'm almost done, thanks. Did you sleep well?"

You pressed your lips together and into your mouth, not even blinking from the embarrassing frown that took over your expression.

"Mhm."

The blonde looked down beside himself at you.

"Want food?"

"I can do it."

"There are eggs and brea-nevermind, you don't eat bread..."

"It's fine, I can make my food," you said as you opened the fridge, "are you staying tonight?"

"Uh, no. I'm leaving with Ben after lunch," Matt leaned against the counter, fists in his pockets.

You wanted to talk to him, but you felt a weird vibe in the air, although that was precisely why you wanted to speak with the man. Moving near him, you set a cucumber and the leftover celery on the counter, slicing one, chopping the other, placing a spoonful of chunky peanut butter on a plate and scooping up some leftover scrambled eggs, filling a spot at the table. Moving his plate to the seat next to you, he took the chair and filled a cup for you with coffee.

"Uh... Can we meet up one of these days?" his words were melodic and fluid in their hushed tone.

"Where?"

"I don't know, doesn't matter. Wherever you'd like, your place," he gave a slight shrug.

"What for?"

"To... talk. Hang out," with a dispelling head shake, he tried not to make a big deal out of it.

Anxiety still rushed through you, fiddling with your fork as you spread out the eggs and piled them up again.

You had, somehow, fucked something up.

"Hm, yeah, okay. When?"

"Whenever you want to."

"I... really prefer when people give me a set plan, Matty. A time and a place and a why... Even if I try to avoid it after. It's just easier for me to deal with whatever it is when I have all the information."

"Yeah, I know, but," he looked towards the door and again to his plate, "it's nothing serious, there is no problem. I just wanna hang out."

No, it wasn't _just_ that.

"Oh-kay," you pricked along your lips with the fork, seeking comfort, eyes steady on the center of the table but not truly seeing it.

Not long after, everybody took their rightful places at the table, marked by their own plates and mugs, Ren taking the share of vegetables and eggs you saved for him, reaching for the coffee pot and finding it empty.

 

*

 

Following a lunch that comprised pretty much every possible food in order to empty out the fridge and pantry, everyone sat and reclined on the porch over the beach towels that had dried overnight, taking a bit of sun and talking before part of the group had to leave. Matt showed his niece and nephew a game on his tablet and the rest of you discussed about random things - movies, music, Ben's new neighboring family who had a dog that wouldn't stop yapping and new restaurants, the blonde chirping in when pertinent.

The amusing exchange carried on, Aric crawling from the place next to his uncle towards you, who sprawled arms and legs and let him sit between them and embraced the boy. He rested his head against your chest on his side, away from the gang, and pulled your left hand that was over his knees to his lap, palm upwards. The child was quiet, possibly drowsy after the meal and the afternoon's temperature and Matt lifted his eyes from the entertaining device to both you and the boy every so often. The young male compared his embellished nails to yours, tenderly pulled on your digits and traced the lines of your palms with his tiny index, then the grooves under your wrist and finally your new scar. So gently that you barely felt it. His eyebrows furrowed, lifting your wrist in a clumsy way due to the angle and kissing the mark, patting it after as he whispered something to it. Aric looked up at you and your eyes met when he murmured:

"It's going to make it better."

Nothing could have hit you harder than that.

You smacked your mouth closed with that same hand, repressing any sound that could have come out of you accompanying the tears that so abruptly fell from your eyes, the boy's face scrunching up in a cry, possibly scared with your reaction, but stretching his arms to you as you clung to him, your entire body starting to convulse in voiceless sobs, Ren catching the shadowy mass the two of you had become on the corner of his eye, scrambling to his feet and flying towards the scene, Ben reacting to his brother's jump and racing for succor.

"No, no, no, no, no! Let go of him. Can you let go of Auntie?" Kylo spoke softly to both you and the child, only worried because he knew very well how intense those holds could get.

You would never deliberately harm him. And you could either clamp onto something or someone, or be completely depleted. Ren could take it. But the boy was too small.

Matt, till then with a wretched, whimpering mien, hauled his niece and went inside, Ben chipping away at carefully disengaging the teeny digits from your hair and your top, offering calming words to his son, while the largest of the Adonises was curled over you, forcing his arms under yours and between you and his nephew, his mouth jammed against your ear, susurrating for you to let go of the boy and go inside, that you were squeezing him too hard and he was frightened.

Your head lifted and you relaxed enough for Ben to pull Aric to him, Kylo picking you up as you finally bawled, carrying you back in the house and upstairs, placing you in bed and closing the door.

Aric wanted to follow you, Ben carrying him for a stroll in the woods so he didn't hear anything, Matt taking his tearing niece and her doll to his car under the trees, away from the howls and where a breeze would run through.

Thirty, perhaps forty-five minutes later, all was quiet.

The kids were with the adults in the living room and Kylo went down to get water, Aric getting up without letting go of his Stitch plushie and meeting his uncle, not saying anything, simply trailing after him.

"Where do you think you're going?" Ben asked.

The boy didn't answer, frowny gaze fixed on his dad, Kylo noticing him at his back and watching the scene. Aric resumed his mission, going up the staircase, the oldest triplet reassuring the youngest with a clear and dismissing wave of his hand, trudging after the child.

Reaching the door to your room, ajar, he slid the plush toy's neck to be hooked by his left elbow's pit and a meager, reticent paw pushed the obstacle away, cautiously entering and standing along the wall, concentrated on your figure atop the cot, facing away from the entrance.

The giant circled the mattress, offering you the mug with water, gesturing for the little one to get closer.

"You have a visitor," he informed, pulling the wicker chair near you and sitting on it, the furniture giving a stretching, cracking sound as the dry vines strained.

His tiny feet couldn't even be heard, guarded footsteps till he was inches away from you.

"Hi," you uttered, swollen eyes and stuffy nose.

"Hi."

"I'm so sorry if I scared you. I didn't want to hurt you."

His fingers flopped one of the creature's ears.

"You didn't hurt me," his voice was miniscule, "I was a little scared, because I wanted you to get better. And you got more sad."

"I didn't, baby. I just felt a lot of love and a lot of shame too quickly."

"Why did you feel shame?"

"Because I didn't want you to see me sad."

Once again not working, tears refreshing their paths down your cheeks while you propped yourself on your elbows.

He turned to his uncle and passed him Stitch, climbing onto the bed when you made extra space for him, petting your cheeks and using his palm to wipe the wetness from them, though he simply smeared them.

"Do you forgive me?" you questioned.

"Yes. But you can be sad."

"But I didn't want to scare you."

"It's okay, I'm not scared now."

The missing three family members joined you in the room, Cari climbing onto the mattress as well, while you apologized to Ben, uncomfortable due to the reaction you had never had in public before and because there were far too many people in the room, him holding your hand and smiling at you, silent.

After a few minutes, the small family left and your Master with them, Matt lingering behind, going up to you and enfolding you with his arms, firmly, kissing your face and making you chuckle.

"I'm sorry," you apologized to him as well.

"I don't need that. I'll call you tomorrow," he let your hair escape from his soft grip as he went on his way.

Kylo walked them out, both kids holding on to each of his huge hands as they walk to the car, Ben and himself buckling the children up into their seats.

"Ith Auntie thad?" Cari asked in a worried secret.

"She is. But it's okay. You don't have to worry about it." Kylo replied her, expressionless, securing the seat belt across her chest and lap.

She stared at her melancholic uncle, kicking her feet absentmindedly.

"You know, thometimeth when I'm thad, Daddy hugth me for a really long time and then he readth me a thtory. Or puth a movie on the TV and we wath it. Maybe Auntie needth hugth and a movie."

He stared back at his niece while she gave her formula for curing the blues.

"Maybe."

Cari stretched her arms towards the curved man in the Ess Yoo Vee.

"Hug me, Uncle Ky! I can't reath you!"

Frowning, he chuckled and got closer to the restrained preschooler, who pushed her face against his shoulder, both pecking after.

Aric was already in his seat, strapped in by his father, Kylo rounding the vehicle and popping up by the boy.

"Are you okay, buddy?"

The child nodded.

"You didn't hurt Auntie, you know? You didn't make her sad. She was already sad. Are _you_ sad?"

His curly licorice mane moved in a nod once again, thick, fluffy tendrils sprouting from the little ponytail he had going on.

"Did you like being here?"

"I did."

"Did you like playing in the tent and going to the lake and building the fairy house?"

"I did."

"Did you know that Auntie came because she wanted to see you, peanuts?"

"Jellybeanth. Auntie sometimeth callth uth 'jellybeanth'," Cari pointed out.

Aric glanced at his sister and went back to considering his uncle, who bent further towards his nephew.

"Auntie loves you very much, she was happy to see you and play with you and Cari. And she really liked when you slept in our bed. But you shouldn't do that," he playfully poked the boy's tummy and tickled his neck, gaining a smile from him. "Don't worry about her, she's going to be okay."

Utmost, most forged, yet trivial lie. But he didn't want to see Ben's kids so little and so heartbroken - they would have a lifetime to deal with that.

They smooched and hugged and Matt repeated the same gestures and bopped their tiny button noses, closing the sliding door. The triplets smacked each other's shoulder blades in half embraces, exchanging promising words of vague future meetups and wishes of safe travels, everyone having to text each other whenever they got home, you and Ren staying behind.

On his way in, he took his motorcycle through the small ramp on the rear of the deck and stored it past the back door, where it would stay safely for an extra night, not trusting the lack of bulkier vehicles around anymore.

He reentered the room, mutely, and pulled the clothes you wore off your shape, lying and pulling you against him, enveloping your torso in the vibrant colors of his tattoos, aquiline nose setting on your scalp.

"Dr. Cari prescribed hugs and movies. That's her private cure for sadness."

You both chuckled, then straight up laughed.

"She might be on to something..." You felt the fabric of his leggings against your own legs and feet, reminding you, "why did you ask me to bring tights?"

"Was just in case you wanted to go hiking."

"What time is it?"

"Two forty-five, maybe three already," he guessed without moving, "we don't have to go. We can just stay like this..."

"I feel bad..."

"You feel bad because instead of going up a mountain under the blazing sun I get to feel you up naked? The problem here is," unraveling his limbs from you, he moved slightly to the side, causing you to brace yourself, while pulling shorts and tights off his long, muscled legs, "the problem here _was_ that I wasn't naked myself."

Repositioning at his side, you laid your neck to fit with his upper arm, your right hand resting over his broad chest, Kylo swiftly readjusting his genitals from having been squashed in fabric.

Not too long after, lulled by emotional exertion and the afternoon's warm waft coming through the parted balcony doors, nothing but birds chirping outside, you both fell asleep for a good hour, waking only when the sun shifted and shone all its burning glory directly upon you.

"Come with me..." you rolled off the bed and got his t-shirt on, fairly large to work as a dress.

The male dragged himself to his feet, separating his shorts from the leggings and putting the loose item on, both of you slipping into your shoes. You took his hand and walked through the house, leading him outside, wandering into the woods. You stopped once you found the spot where you, Matt and the children built the teeny, flimsy structure, crouching in front of it and fixing some of the twigs that had fallen, perhaps due to gravity or some animal landing on it. Kylo roamed the area and stooped next to you, adding a couple of longish fern leaves on the roof, their tips hanging from the sides, and a short, Blue Jay feather he placed next to the other ones, extra careful so the back of his hand wouldn't knock anything down.

You stared at him.

How was it that the darkest of the souls managed to find the most vivid of the feathers?

It didn't surprise you as much as it strengthened you, like a reminder that everything can be dealt with, even when seemingly impossible, and when existence feels extraordinarily heavy and desolate in its sepulchral atmosphere, minute, rich details can be found and marveled at.

Standing to your feet, you hugged Kylo against your stomach, getting hoisted up as he straightened, trudging silently through the trees back to the chalet, locking doors behind. He deposited you on the springy surface of the narrow, short, full size bed you had been sharing that weekend, heels removing his boots, hands dropping the shorts to the ground, squatting ahead of you and dislodging your sneakers from your feet, slipping his t-shirt off your body as he rose, advancing on you.

 

*

 

The shower stall in the bathroom you had been using was cramped, even for you. Your assumption was that Skywalker wasn't in a hurry to update a place he barely visited. While you showered, Kylo sat on the toilet seat, watching you, awaiting his turn, and once you were done rinsing the soapy lather you had scrubbed yourself with, he shrunk in, attempting and failing to deflate his measurements. For an instance, you shared a look - perhaps you should have chosen one of the other washrooms. Still, he proceeded.

Dinner was neglected, garbs were disregarded and by eight fifteen, you were both sitting on the wooden balcony to which your chamber opened to, freely wrapped in a sheet and savoring the last minutes of light and sunny warmth, contemplating the sunset over the forest, listening to the creatures in your surroundings.

None of you said a word since the fairy house.

You lazed and lounged, making each other cum, dozing off, till it was time to leave the following morning after breakfast, Kylo locking everything and leaving the keys under an empty planter on the deck from where a trusting cleaning crew would retrieve it and have it securely arrive back onto the owner's hands.

After four hours on the road with only one break, you dismounted at your place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join me as I get mad at myself for both using acronyms and spelling their letters out, unable to decide between them.  
> This had been drafted as a somewhat light chapter, while still touching the scars issue. However... all of that happened. -points at mess above- I'm sorry. 
> 
> Ze vizualz:  
> Ren's clothes: [Nike basketball shorts](http://tinyurl.com/yajgrn3t), [compression tights](http://tinyurl.com/y7rchbky), [t-shirt](http://tinyurl.com/ydyrzook) (same one from the first day)  
> Wicker chair in the room: [here](http://tinyurl.com/y9tqaekj)  
> Twins' car seats (think I never showed): [booster](http://tinyurl.com/ydyxm8pq) (but [this](http://tinyurl.com/y8b6rprn) is the whole thing)  
> Blue Jay feather: [here](http://tinyurl.com/y8tdkegr)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	63. Indulgenza

"Can you... get on all fours...? Please?" you asked of him, timid, upon his return from retrieving the glass he had been drinking from on the dining table.

He stopped, cup in hand, a whole marble pillar of naked man, sipping on juice made from Gala apples.

"Here?"

"No, come," you gestured with your hand.

Kylo took another sip and set the glass down on the low bedside surface, bending and cushioning his landing on the mattress with hands and shins, assuming the position you had asked of him.

"What is it for? Do y'wanna mount me? Fuck, you should!" he attempted to figure out but the mania phase and the sudden new idea caught him in a fleeting craze.

"Can I-"

"Yes, yes, you can!"

"No," you crawled and got behind him on the bed, "I wanna see your seam..."

"My seam? Okay... You've seen it many times before..."

"Not from this angle... Arch your back a bit..."

Your eyes scanned his amazing body, from the dimples on his lower back to the hindside of his muscled thighs. Sitting on your heels, you admired what you were captivated by - starting on his anus and ending about an inch below the glans, that bulging line, _perineal raphe_. You've been enthralled by it and it had occurred to you that he had indeed never showcased it for you. That was being fixed.

"Feeling very exposed here..."

You scoffed, laughing.

"Welcome to my sex life."

"Yeah, but..." he half-turned in place and pulled you forth to him, compelling you to get on hands and knees as well, smacking your rear, "you have _this_ and this extra hole..."

"Are you jealous of my 'extra hole'?"

"Nah," up on his knees, he began prodding and fingering your cunt, "I'm very fond of having a dick." Laying on his side next to you, he approached your right ear and sussurrated, smirking, "I get to shove it inside of you, how could I not like having a dick?"

You smiled and winced in a spike of pleasure, closing your eyes as his voice filled you and his breath washed over your skin. Disuniting your body from his busy left hand, you pushed the Goliath on his back and focused on his bottom half, settling centered among sturdy parted thighs.

"But... my 'extra hole' isn't extra at all... You're the one who lost yours, when your Y chromosome decided there was enough processing and it was time to give you this magnificent cock... and created this exceptional line," the tip of your fingers petted along his scrotum and wide, long, reposing member, the lascivious giant installing pillows under his head and leisurely clearing your face of hair strands.

"But the 'magnificent cock' hurts you every single time..." his tone was almost apologetic, voice too puny for such a vigorous man.

Your fingers never ceased, little by little causing the hefty organ to firm up.

"But that's what I need."

Your lips got in contact with his darker skin, padded kisses along the expanse of his scrotum evolving into open-mouth, sodden oscules, his erection throbbing and twitching upwards, his eyes closing, yet briefly, not wanting to miss a thing. Propping your weight onto your legs, you widened his thighs further apart and pushed them up onto him, licking your dextral middle digit and gently stroking his hole, Kylo breathing in deeply. You wriggled its tip in, soon replacing it with your tongue, while he moaned and leaked, one of your hands wrapping around the thick member and pumping it, mouth then returning to his balls, sucking them, permitting his butt to return to the mattress. You brushed your hair back, away from your performance, and glossed a fat, faulty line along his shaft, reaching the head and swallowing it, the position not allowing you to triumphantly take any more than that into your mouth, but teasing his _frenulum_ and _corona_ with the sweltering sultriness of your tongue, slurping the spit off of it and drooling over it again, molars scraping the delicate skin when trying to devour more of his member, slippery glide of your left hand up and down over the thick expanse of his enlarged shaft. His toes spasmed and his hips erratically hurtled upwards against you, core tensing, fists tugging on your sheets and on your mane. You forced more of his organ deeper into your throat, gagging when staggering stirring of his right thigh to the side caused a sharper stab into your skull, you immediately giving yourself some room to breathe through your nostrils as you ejected his dick off your palate, feeling the hot squirts of cum suddenly filling the cramped cavern of your mouth, prudently but firmly tugging his balls, swallowing what you could and never ceasing the suction on the glans, Kylo groaning and whining and not knowing where to put his hands nor what to grab anymore, wholly hypnotized by the sight of you draining his cock, enslaved by the sensation of your stretched lips around his girth.

Seventeen seconds of profound, persisting pleasure, his head light, body entirely limp, on the verge of passing out. Almost like you weren't supposed to be felt, you gingerly lapped any missed remnants of semen, inflamed lips kissing the mixture of saliva and precum off his crotch, a growled complaint and a flinch when you licked the head, large hands partially catching your limbs and pulling you along his frame till you were face to face.

Ren sighed, satisfied and serene, soul windows barely open, the cold tip of the most regal of the noses gently delineating the flesh of your lips, his own touching your chin.

"Mmm... Love that little whore mouth..." was whispered onto your skin, scorching breaths dissipating over it.

You rotated onto your back, digits going inside of you, spreading wetness all over your sex. But the behemoth twisted to you, on his flank yet slightly tipping over your physique, taking that busy hand and licking it clean, placing it over his shoulder, his powerful dextral thigh getting in between yours, torso sliding down, accommodating both of your puzzle pieces in bed, and seizing your breast, squeezing and shaking, before covering it with his pouty, flushed lips, tasting and biting, pulling your nipple with his teeth until it slipped, capturing it again with his whole mouth then, engaging his long tongue and the surgical steel barbell in it in a massage, suckling the fullness of your dry boob like it could offer him something. You combed his lengthy eerie black waves backwards, nails softly dragging on his scalp, easing the protruding crest bone of his tense eyebrows, hooded eyes meeting yours before closing in tranquility, the contractions felt in your womb and the tingle in your clit from his dry feeding making you the more slicked. Bringing your thigh up higher on his torso, you attempted to connect your puffed entrance to anywhere you could on his body, grinding lips and hood against the hard muscles of his abdomen, Kylo's large arm wrapping over your waist and hips, hand lodged in the crevice of your ass. His breathing was calm, heart beating through his cushiony chest against your stomach. At times he would let go of your tit, graze his drying lips over your nipple, then wet them, repeating the brushing on the tip and taking the _areola_ into his mouth again, nudging with his tongue towards the roof of his mouth.

Twenty calm minutes for him, agonizingly arousing for you.

Kylo pushed your arms from him to rest above your head on the mattress, rolling over you and smelling the skin from your nape, under your arm, from the plain between your breasts, investing a sloppy kiss onto your belly button and lowering to your parted folds, inhaling your unmistakable fragrance that always sent tingles through his chest and drove him to be derangedly consumed.

However, he couldn't take you that day, couldn't get inside the pussy he so desperately craved, having bruised you too much on the last day of that weekend in Vermont, recurring to all possible alternatives since then.

Still, as if it was almost on purpose, those last days were when he felt like being around you more, coming to your studio every night on workdays and whenever he pleased on days off. Those were the days you smelled better, more intense, perhaps also having coincided with your cycle. Days when he had to, he needed to be inside you and feel your walls clamping down around him, strained, but always yearning after him.

And you were oozing wetness.

He snorted your scent once more before he enveloped your thigh with his left arm, same side hand holding your skin spread upwards, flattening his wonderful muscle with thousands of _papillae_ , each with hundreds of taste buds, and licking your entire vulva, lips sucking your _labia minora_ into his warm mouth and swishing it around with a concave tongue, the same tongue then entering you and swirling in your juices, drinking what he could. Kylo's _lingua_ danced, both going as deep as it could and flicking in your entrance, electrifying. His marvelous Roman nose rubbed and pressed on your clit, incidentally at first, but what had started as a circumstantial inconvenience years ago, had been taken advantage of, silly proportions that worked well.

You didn't take much longer, his teeth surrounding your throbbing clit while he sucked hard on it, your frame shaking and convulsing off the mattress, legs wrenching themselves shut but encountering the resistance of his body, your orgasmic moans loud and long, until your hips subsided, your thighs trembling in their mitigation, fingertips softly pulling on a couple of his locks. Taking the hint, the herculean man detached from your sopping heat, dragged his alabaster-sculpted height up and smoothly invaded you with a reinvigorated erection, as you whined and begged him not to, his palm cupping your cheek, while his other hand reposed over the hood of your clit, a billow of pecks all across your semblance.

"Please, please, trust me... I won't move, I just wanna be inside your pussy," even before he finished whispering, your body began thrashing once again, a second ecstasy rushing through, "see your face when you cum..."

Ren's visage warped, watching your own face contorting in animalistic cries, knowing he was the motive of it.

Indeed he did not budge and any thrusting was produced by you in your seizure, climaxing under the pads of his fingers, completely full of his cock, cursing nonsensical gibberish and groaning. With that spark, his huge hand abandoned your fiery flesh and fastened in a fist around the surplus of inches that remained outside of you, serving as a solid, immovable barrier to prevent lunging as his seed pulsed from his member, messy hair cascading onto you, sweaty forehead digging into your chest, your upper limbs involving his head and neck in an embrace.

Despite the warmth, it had been drizzling that week, the pitter-patter of rain drops against your windows like little feet across the floor.

Ren lifted his head from your chest to you and you kissed his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hai and welcome back to Introduction to Anatomy. :)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	64. Latent - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was definitely NOT what was planned to follow, but a couple of days ago this and the following chapter pressed to come into existence and I have nothing left to say asides from I'm sorry. Again.

Your laptop was turned off the entire day, deciding to type on your phone application only so you didn't settle too much, engulfed by the entrails of creation, much easier to save and ditch the smaller device in an instant, instead of having to deal with false idle states - aggravatingly setting your computer to sleep, yet simply because your mouse could shift three millimeters in a certain direction in another dimension, the screen would come back to life.

Matt had called you two Mondays ago when you arrived home from the trip, checking up on you and asking if you were busy that following weekend - he was attending to his regular work in town that month and Thursday night was his customary, official weekend start. He had mentioned he wanted to have some one-on-one time back at the _chalet_ in Vermont and you'd been reasoning about it since. Notwithstanding, Ren's presence had pacified the foreground of your mind, spending all his unoccupied time at your studio and devoting the fullness of his attention to you, even filling quiet afternoons sitting as far away from you as possible, reading a book, while you squeezed some writing in, wanting to be there.

His company eased you.

The mobile in your hands vibrated, screen lighting up with Matt's precious grin.

"Hey."

"Wh-hello? Hi! I'm sorry, that was fast! I didn't expect you to pick up so quickly!"

"I was on my phone. Wassup?"

"I'm leaving work now and was wondering if you wanted to do anything together?"

You turned halfway to your kitchen wall clock.

"You're leaving work?! It's four thirty in the afternoon, you're living the life!"

He tittered, nervously, only able to leave his job early at times due to putting in a lot of extra hours, many times even working from home on Saturdays.

"Yeah, sure... So, do you have plans for tonight?"

"Plans? Uh... I was actually kinda expecting you to come forth so I was just hanging... on the wire... above the abyss of anxiety that is my life."

You couldn't have been any more honest with the illustration of your current state, hyperbolizing what wasn't, in truth, a hyperbole. 

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cau-"

"Are you driving?"

"Yes, I'm about to pass the bridge-"

"Why are you calling me if you're driving?"

"You... You're on speaker. I'm not... holding my phone... Are you stuck in the nineties...?"

"Okay, of course, okay, I'm sorry. Uh, carry on?"

"Okay... So... Do you want to go somewhere tonight or come to my place or stay there and I'll go to your place... Or I can not go... What do you wanna do?"

"Hmm... I don't even know what is there to do, out. Been inside my head, haven't really paid attention to what's happening at the moment..."

"Well... there are restaurants. And movies... Uh, plays..."

"You know, you talked about walks in the park, long time ago? Let's do that."

"Tonight?"

"No, tomorrow morning."

"Are you serious? 'Cause sometimes I can't tell if you're serious or just fucking with me..."

"Yes, I'm serious. Tomorrow morning, let's go take a walk in Prospect Park."

"Okay, so I just go home now?"

You stumbled: he incontestably wanted to meet that evening. Therefore, you added to the answer.

"Yeah... Go home, change or whatever you need to do and come here with... a game or something. Some kind of entertainment. And bring whatever you need to sleep over."

"..."

"... Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes. Yes! I did! So-uh... What about food? Want me to get something?"

"No, I can start right now and it might be ready by the time you get here. I don't know what, but I'll figure it out. Where are you now?"

"Coh-ming to the Department of Health."

"How's traffic?"

"Flowing nicely."

"Then do your thing and it will be ready. Bring dessert if you want, I got nothing sweet here. Well, I have chocolate, but you're not getting those..."

"I wouldn't dare," he joked, "I don't know, I'll see what pops out on the way there."

"Alright. See ya in a bit. Drive safely."

"Okay. Bye."

Jumping onto your feet, you walked to the kitchen and extracted your wok from the counter storage, opening the fridge and scanning for the colorful vegetables, while considering what protein to use.

As you set the last of the required ingredients on the cement countertop, you halted and thought to yourself what kind of an unplanned plan had burst out of your mouth on the phone.

Sleep there? Ren had training that evening, but what if he came by after as per his late usual? You weren't doing anything wrong, you were spending some time with a friend, who happened to be his brother, having a meal, playing a game.

Sleep there? You kept telling yourself nothing was wrong. Matt could very well sleep over. But would Ren understand? And were you understanding?

Suddenly you weren't so sure of anything anymore, darting to the phone and calling the blonde.

"Hey, what is it?"

"Where are you?"

"Uhhh... getting to the cemeteries, why?"

"Come pick me up."

"What, now?"

"Yes, now."

"O-okay, but what abou-"

"I'll explain later, just come, please. No need to park, just pull over."

"Okay."

You had already hung up and were putting everything back into storing in an unnecessary rush, jogging to your room and pulling random clothes out of a home-lounging folded garments pile and shoving them in your backpack, along with underwear and your pill, slipping into socks and sneakers, reversing to roll down your window shades, then grabbing a hoodie, phone and keys, standing by your window and watching from behind the shades. Long minutes after, all the lights were flicked off and your home was locked behind, on your way out.

Matt kept the engine running and didn't quite know what to think at that moment, seeing you stepping out of your building and get into the passenger's seat.

"Heeeyyy what happened?"

"Change of plans. You got a park close to your apartment, right?"

"Not as close as you have, but kiiinda..."

"That works! Right? Can I sleep at your house?"

"Yyyyeeesss... I don't really have the other room ready. But it doesn't take much..."

"I'll sleep on the couch, you have a huge couch."

Matt resumed the commute, while you texted Ren saying you had stuff to do that evening. As much as he wanted to question you, he simply acknowledged.

"We're going to need food then."

"Ah, yeah, sorry. I'll cover it."

"Don't be silly, that's not the point. Besides, I invited you to do stuff. The thing now is to decide what to get."

"What did you already have this week?"

"Chinese, sushi, Korean... Pizza."

"What about we stop by the store and I make us something? It's still early and I'm feeling very tempted to get something with cheese and I rather not or I'll be sick tonight..."

 

*

 

One smoked salmon _Niçoise_ -style salad after and far too many heated rounds of Tekken 4 on his old PlayStation system, both of you were giving into the languid tiredness of the end of the day. You sipped on your water and let the glass rest in your hand atop your lap, feet up thrown to the side on the light tanned tweed sofa.

"So, are we going to talk about what's going on? You've been treating me differently. Or you did... during that weekend..."

Matt removed his glasses, rubbing his large hands over eyes and cheeks, crossing his arms at chest level, ankles overlapped over the coffee table, not quite sure how to start.

"It's hard being around you with my brothers. Ben is... a lot. And Kylo is just there, judging. Plus, you know, the kids require a lot of attention and everyone focuses on them..."

"Yeah, but we've been in similar situations before. Well, situations where I didn't steal the show after..." You joked in your camouflaged self-deprecation, feeling ashamed. "But I still think you were different with me..."

"Nooo, was just your imagination."

"Matt, you barely spoke to me and it always felt like you were either apologizing or offering half words to everything."

"The dynamics were different, like I said."

"You didn't want to hold my hand. And it was just you and I and the kids."

"I had just ripped moss from dirt! My hands were dirty."

"Matt." You put your glass on the table and met him more directly, "talk to me. Please. You said you wanted to talk, let's talk."

His hands were directed to his face once again, timorously covering his mouth, palming his jaw, bringing his feet to the floor and leaning forward, elbows on knees. Frowning, he smiled down at his clasped fists.

"I don't know, I guess I was jealous of Ben being so... all over you and teasing and being the general charming asshole he is."

"We know that's what he does. Maybe now more so perhaps... he might be having some issues, I'm not sure what's going on, might be Desiree, might be himself... Or just stress getting to him... I'm sure you know more than I do. And you also know he likes to be the center of attentions. And there was literally no one else there who wasn't related to him!"

"Yeah, I know, it's just," he hesitated, his grip increasing in intensity, lips being pulled further into his mouth, pressed harder onto, "I was jealous of Kylo too," he included quietly.

You gawked. Not confused, but saddened.

And he proceeded:

"It's not new... I just couldn't take it anymore," some sort of dam was split open from the earlier breach, " when he started bringing you around I didn't really ask him if you guys were dating, but I assumed so, since he never really ever brought anyone around, especially to the house and stuff... And I know how he is, but... he would never, I don't know, hold your hand or even bump into you in front of us! So then I thought that maybe he was interested in you, but didn't have the courage to tell you? I don't know, I thought a lot of things. But he started bringing you along whenever we would all gather and you and I got to know each other and... This sounds really stupid and really childish said out loud..."

"You never said anything..." calmly, you intervened.

"I know... Was stuck between Kylo and not having the guts to do it..."

Your eyebrows were permanently furrowed throughout the divulgence, rejecting, trying to make some sense out of anything.

"You dated. I met like... three of your girlfriends."

"Yeah, I dated..."

"Didn't you love them?"

"Yes, I did. A little."

"'A little'?"

He shrugged, embarrassed to explain awkward old feelings for women he never saw again.

"You were always there. In my mind. And around. And before last year, when you were avoiding me-"

"I wasn't avoiding _you_ , I was at home, away from everyone-"

"-and I didn't see you for almost a year, I was with this girl. A guy from work introduced us at this dinner party he threw when he moved to his new house, she was his wife's friend from college, anyway, the point is... I liked her and we were together for eight months and she was planning these things, but she also had an irritating miniature dog..." he let it trail off, pausing to look at his own paws, smoothing over the knuckles with his thumbs, "I didn't want to be with her. I rather stay with the idea of you."

It was breaking your heart, hearing your friend loved you.

"I'm a horrible person to have around."

"No, you're not! You keep saying that, but it only sounds like a bad excuse!"

"Matty, I don't want to tell you that you don't know what it is like, because that sounds so... angsty... and I know you had and still have your own issues... but... you don't know what it is like."

"So tell me."

"It's not stuff I can tell, you can only _see_ and _feel it_ when you live it, when you go through it or when you see it _right there_ , happening in front of you. And Vermont? That was the tiniest of the glimpses. That was nothing, nothing at all."

"I can deal."

"You can't. You know me, but you don't, because we spend time together and we talk about things, but at the end of the day you go home and never have to deal with any of it. And I don't want you to."

"But let me! Let me be there for you! I care so much about you, you have no idea! It _hurts_! Knowing you go through these things and that he hurts you-"

"Do not talk about what you don't know, Matt. He does not hurt me."

"Yeah, he does! Even if I'm not supposed to... consider the bruises, he still does! He sleeps with other people!"

That struck you. You weren't sure how he knew that, you never thought Ren to be the bragging type or the kind of guy who brings those things up casually.

"So what?" We're not together."

"But you wish you were. It's been what, five years? More?" he shook his head, pitying everything, himself and the mudslide of situation taking place, "I would be fine being your second choice. I won't hurt you, you're too important to me."

Your hands shrouded your face, elbows stabbing your knees.

"This is not a car sale..."

"No, it's our lives. I know you want things Kylo will probably never give you, things that are time-sensitive, stages in life I know you've always wanted... And that I have always wanted too..."

That was a low blow.

"Matty..."

"This is really not where I imagined this conversation would go, feel like I'm getting way ahead of myself..."

"Matty, I ruin everything. I would ruin you... You're saying you wouldn't hurt me and I truly believe that. But _I_ would hurt you. I know it would happen. And it wouldn't take too long either..."

"I'd take it." 

"You're brothers! You look the same!"

You had no idea what to say at that point, blurting out the most obvious of the facts in hopes that the mess you found yourself in, would magically unravel itself.

But things don't work like that.

"It's my fault. I thought I could treat you... I don't know, the way I've been treating you? Like some kind of... agender, asexual friend," you giggled in your own stupidity, "but... didn't quite work like that."

"I tried..." he apologized.

You both smiled sadly at each other, your right hand covering your mouth as you burst into a fit of tears. Swallowing them down, you got up on your feet.

"I have to go."

"Please stay."

"I have to go."

"There is no subway station nearby and you won't get on a bus at this time like that," rising from the couch he approached you cautiously, "please stay. I'll drive you home in the morning."

You shook your head, dazed.

"Please."

 

*

 

Neither of you slept that night. You didn't shower, not wanting to somehow extend your presence in the apartment of your infatuated friend. You pushed to stay on the couch, he stayed in his room.

Everything felt out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... Yeeeaaahhh...
> 
> In Tekken 4, Reader always plays as Ling Xiaoyu and Matty as Jin Kazama, unironically.
> 
> The Viz:  
> Niçoise salad: [recipe](http://tinyurl.com/y8e6xneu), except I replaced the tuna with smoked salmon
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	65. Latent - Part II

You saw the first sunbeams coming through the windows in Matt's living room. Lacking rest, your head was pounding. Everything was too much and you wanted to go home, bury yourself in fresh, familiar sheets, keep the blinds shut and stay in the darkness of your lair for days.

During the night you thought about what your friend had shared, but more importantly, how he behaved, with restless, tightened fists, stumbling through half statements and the narrative of his _pathos_ , getting carried away with unimportant details, yet... surely aware of the words he used and how he used them.

Nervous, however cautious.

Perhaps to keep you from falling apart. Or himself.

In the next room, Matt had heard three sonorous, stuffed sniffles he assumed you probably couldn't have contained, most likely expecting or hoping him to be asleep. He hated himself for not having been able to carry on without saying something. But he was so tired of hiding it, getting so bitter, imagining how Kylo spent time with you as he saw fit, how he touched you, kissed you, slept with you.

Matt woke up with a weight on his chest, having fallen dormant for a couple of hours that morning, after tossing and turning and fretting over having flushed your friendship down the toilet. There was no way you would choose him over Ren, he thought - it didn't matter how much of a nice guy he was, how he wanted to help you and protect you, didn't matter how surreptitiously crazy he was about you. You and Ren were the same person. No one could separate you from yourself. Or no one should try.

He saw his bedroom door open and you emerging from behind it, mute, standing there. Lifting his back off the mattress, he sat in bed, both hands combing through his bleached curls, looking lost, mouth agape for a while in a soft, impeccably white t-shirt.

"Do you want to eat something before I take you home?"

You kept your stance, immobile, eyes on him.

"Take me to the park."

 

*

 

The neighborhood where the concocted blond lived wasn't as manicured as yours, which made for a lower count of tourists in the area, therefore not much commerce and only a small number of restaurants around, neither of which he minded, contributing to an overall laid back environment. Having to go to Manhattan every day for work allowed him to have access to the city lifestyle he currently appreciated.

No big parks nearby aside from playgrounds spread throughout that sector, and communities tended to feel apprehensive when seeing lone males roaming certain places, as they should, thus having you with him disburdened his worried mind.

It was still extremely early and only precocious Friday risers were seen marching on their commute to work or jogging up the road, couple of traffic jams being passed by as you both strolled to the park, hoodies and sweaters covering heads and hands from the morning chill, uniquely brisk for Summer months. You ambled till you found a bench, sitting side by side, statically facing the empty playing field, where the jungle gym and slide met over the sand box.

"I've thought about you," you began after a lengthy unspeaking moment, where engines were heard in front of the hospital at your back instead of children's laughter, hands in pockets, "after you started... talking to me more, after we hung out a couple of times by ourselves at that small cafe by the place I used to live, remember? I thought you were too nice to me. And so smiley... And when you first asked me for my number, I thought you were going to try something, because that's just how people are, I guess... But you didn't. So I imagined you weren't interested. And the more we hung out, the closer we became."

"I couldn't... act on it. Or just say anything... Seeing you and listening to you was so... I couldn't go up to you and simply say I was interested or ask you out properly. I mean, I even had to find a way to make you give me your number without it looking too straightforward... And then I kind of... waited."

"For what?"

"I don't know. For the right moment, I guess."

"So you think last night was the right moment? After half a decade?"

He shrugged, downhearted, rubbing the heel of his sneaker in the hard concrete strip where the bench was perched on.

"Seems like what people say is true, there is no such thing as the right moment..."

"No matter what, nor when... I would overwhelm you, wreck you. You're not made of pure sunshine or anything, you're not without flaw... but you're so much better than me. Not even above me, you're a whole 'nother category of person. And then I would drag you down and hurt you and change you for life and then... how could I live with that?"

"That's so ridiculous, do you hear yourself?" His head was turned to you, incredulous. "No one is above anyone, no one is less than anyone, there is no such thing as me being better than you."

In that moment, he was made of pure sunshine.

"Matt..."

"You don't know because you can't see it. And it's not even because you don't want to see it, but you can't accept there is more to you than this darkness and this pain and this," he gestured with his hands in claws towards the air in between the both of you, "whatever this even is! You don't see that you do have lively moments, you are incredibly intelligent and deep and, more times than I'd like to admit, you talk about stuff that I can't even comprehend! And, let me be honest here, I thought I knew quite a lot. But, obviously, there's a whole chunk of knowledge and rhetoric and whatever else that just goes completely over my head! And you're so kind! You hate everyone and still love and give yourself to others without expecting anything in return. I mean, look at Ben's kids! Look at all the people that hurt you throughout your life because they took advantage of precisely that!" His voice softened, calming the indignant bout. "And you are gorgeous. And can't stand having that pointed out," the towering man commented at your immediate, subtle eye roll. Then, in realization, "he doesn't tell you any of this, does he?"

"Matt, stop! Just stop! This has nothing to do with Ren."

"This also has to do with him."

"I'm not sure what is that you're trying to accomplish here..."

"Nothing. I want to be with you, you want to be with Kylo."

"It's not that simple..."

"I know it isn't. I really do and am not just saying... But this isn't even a competition. It's... I don't know what it is."

"Life?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah..."

You got up and started walking further within the park, crossing it on the way back, the enamored confidant trailing behind you for a few feet before taking two wider strides and traipsing next to you, both in silence.

Once you returned to his place, already nine twelve A.M., your things were gathered and the pair of you got into his Elantra, set to your borough, though first stopping at the small cafe you two used to meet at for breakfast, as his inarticulate idea.

You ordered what you usually had there, two servings of caprese avocado toast for him and a pesto and roasted tomato omelette for you.

"I don't know what to do," you dropped.

"Nothing has changed," he chewed and swallowed a bite of his food, setting the second half-eaten piece of toast on his plate.

"Yes, it has."

"No, it hasn't. I'm still the same person and you're still the same person. My feelings for you haven't changed, hopefully yours for me either. You're not blind, you knew, but perhaps didn't want to accept it. I know because apparently I can't hide anything... Just... I'll always be here, no matter what happens."

"You shouldn't wait for me. No one should wait for me."

"I'm not waiting... I'm... walking beside you."

Your eyes filled with tears, holding your sad heart in your hands, two fat teardrops spilling down your face, right one pouring first, Matt taking the hand you had abandoned over the table in his and locking your digits in his grip, thumb smoothing over the knuckles. You chuckled, lower lip quivering after tonguing the salty stream that marked your left cheek and traveled down your lips.

"Your hand is dirty."

 

*

 

It was almost noon when he parked in front of your building. You remained in the car a little longer, thanking Matt for the previous evening's dinner even though you were the one who cooked, which he also thanked you for, inaudibly ensuring nothing had changed despite nothing being exactly the same. Grabbing your backpack by your feet, you kissed his cheek as he offered you one of his simpers, bopped the tip of your nose and called you shortcake.

You exited the vehicle, taking the few steps to the large front entrance of the old restored factory-turned-residential lot, waving lowly back at him, who waited for you to disappear behind heavy doors.

You didn't notice the dark-cladded leviathan walking up your street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visuals for the chapter:  
> Food: [caprese avocado toast](http://tinyurl.com/yddzween) and [pesto and roasted tomato omelette](http://tinyurl.com/y8zyemu2)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	66. Latent - Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(

Before Matt took off, Kylo jogged the last twenty feet to his car, smacking the roof on the passenger's side to catch his attention, startling him instead with the loud, metallic thud.

"Hey. What are you doin' here?" was verbalized in an uncharacteristically melodic and jovial way.

The blond thought it had been too little time between you entering the building and his brother's sudden appearance - Kylo had seen you leaving his vehicle. And even if from slightly afar, he saw someone leaving his car and going into the building you lived in. Wasn't rocket science, he couldn't lie.

"Shit, dude! You scared me! 'You trying to destroy my car?"

"Your car is fine," the intimidating male replied, deadpan, not moving his eyes from his triplet, prying, "so what are you doing here? Came to the comic store?"

"Uh, no," Matt swiveled and glanced to the opposite side of the street, where one of the comic book shops he frequently visited was conveniently located, "just came to drop our friend home."

"Oh yeah? Where did you two go?" His temples throbbed under flowy curtains of onyx-toned hair.

The middle triplet didn't know what you had told Ren the previous evening. He felt stuck, under the spotlight, deciding to recur to the partial truth.

"We had breakfast at that little Italian cafe by where she used to live before moving here."

Kylo loved him, but he wanted to break his face right then.

"And she took her big backpack to go to breakfast?" The question was rebuttable more than anything. Kylo stood straight and closed his eyes, slowly breathing in and out and doubling to the window again. "Don't fuck with me, Matty. I know you like her..."

"Nothing happened, I swear! Ask her! Nothing happened!"

"Don't do this to me, man! Not you!"

"I didn't do anything! We had food, played games and talked and walked. She stayed over, but I swear nothing happened. In the living room, she stayed in the living room. Alone."

"Leave. But we're not done."

Kylo turned his back and stumped away from his brother towards your studio, Matt's mouth hanging open in disbelief of how much had happened in less than a single day, firing the engine and driving back home.

At your place, you were taking your belongings out of your bag, refolding the clothes and restoring them to the pile they belonged on, when the door opened and closed violently, instantly making your entire skeleton rattle with fear and guilt.

Listening to the ensuing stillness after shoes were taken off with hands and slammed on the hardwood flooring which caused your breathing to falter, you rounded the wall concealing your dressers and peeked to the exasperated giant by the entrance, his enormous hands covering his face, elbows pointing upwards.

He didn't know what to do.

"Ren...?"

Then he did.

Darting to you, you instinctively took uncountable steps back as a bull came full force in your direction, grabbing you by the defensively lifted forearms and rising your feet above the ground as he heaved you through the air towards the bed, flinging you onto it and tumbling over you, pulling his shirt off and yanking the top you wore away from you, baggy sweatpants tugged off your legs, while you couldn't discern if you should resist him or assist him. He dragged his own pants and boxers off, catching your hair on the hooks of your bra, which he then abandoned, you screaming with the sharp pain, panties with pad being slid off without you even noticing, still a fiery surge on the back of your head from where the _brassière_ was caught on, Kylo returning to it and succeeding in unraveling the mess, his heart stinging from making you cry with that, wanting to apologize, but jealousy wouldn't let him.

He slipped inside of you nearly effortlessly with all the blood from the third day of your period, wrapping one of his mighty arms around your waist and boosting you to his lap as he sat on your mattress, left hand behind himself, propping his slanted weight.

"Move," came from the depths within his chest, "move that fuckin' ass!"

You wobbled while tucking your feet in between his thighs and softly planted the pads of your digits and the heel of your palms over his stomach, unsure if you had permission for such, erratically riding him.

"Deeper. Take more of it."

"I can't. It hurts."

"Good. Take more."

"I can't! You're bottoming out! See?" you yelled at him, forcing yourself lower on his length as you spoke and again, over and over, quickly realizing you weren't feeling much pain anymore.

Kylo knew he couldn't go deeper, he could feel the head of his dick hitting your hardened cervix, bewildered because you weren't writhing and howling in pleasurable ache or simple agony, but moaning at the fast rhythm you had instilled yourself.

Something was wrong with you - you couldn't feel pain, just the dense, syrupy haze from voluntarily impaling your starving, menstruating heat on the punishing, stretching thickness of his cock like it was the last thing you were going to do.

He felt out of control. He wanted to hurt you then, but you couldn't be hurt.

"What d-id... you do with Matt?"

"Wha-...?" you were half incredulous, half unsure of what you heard, not stopping, never stopping, unable to get enough, feeling like you were running alongside your climax rather than towards it, your clit untouched. "Ren, fuck me, please, fuck me real good, please..."

Impulsively, the delirious demon pushed you on your back with his mountainous frame, raising your spread legs and folding you onto yourself, holding his heaviness over the back of your thighs, making them touch the sheet under you, ravishing your pussy while you strenuously rubbed your clit with two previously moistened fingers. His hips staggered, ejaculating deep inside of you, pausing for no longer than two seconds before resuming while the raging erection lasted, driving into you as hard as he could and seeing your titillated grimace as your shoulders lifted off the bed, two pairs of eyes cast to where your bodies met, Kylo feeling you push and promptly withdrawing all but the tip of his member's glans, you gushing over the shaft, sensing it pour down the crevice of your ass, the man plugging you back in as your walls spasmed and you trembled under the end of your orgasm.

In the blink of an eye, you started to wail.

Like all sorrow surged to your soul at once, everything hitting you like a chain car crash on the freeway.

Kylo teared up, one heavy drop flowing down his right cheek and his nose running wet.

He sagged out of you and picked your underwear from the floor, heading to the bathroom. There, he checked the counter's drawers, spotted and fished out a fresh sanitary pad, then separated your soaked dirty one from the fabric, rolling it up in the casing of the new one, which he glued by a small spot on the side of the whitesmoke marble countertop and turning the bathtub's faucet on prior to plugging the basin. He opened the top drawer on your wardrobe chest and chose a pair of gray cotton panties, returning to your side and helping your crying self up to your feet, leading you by the hand to the toilet where you sat, for nothing really, since you found yourself incapable of urinating after squirting or hard sex, despite still feeling the need to, but you remained on it while the tub filled, calming down and letting a small oozing drip drizzle out of you. He took the pad from the spot he had glued it on and tried to line it up on the underwear where your vulva would sit, pressing it onto the fabric, removing the strip that protected both handles and gluing those as well on the underside. He stood there, facing you, his long waves in disarray, soft monster penis wearing your blood.

"Did something happen with you and my brother?"

You sighed, rattly, shaking your head in denial.

"He wanted to hang out so I invited him here with intentions of cooking and playing some game and because I wanted to go to the park in the early morning, I thought of inviting him to sleep on the couch. But I was afraid you would... freak out or get angry if you showed up and he was here, so I thought maybe I should go there and have the same plan play out there. And it did. And we only chatted, I slept on the couch, nothing happened. Then on the way here we stopped at the Italian place from where we used to get dinner from sometimes-"

"' _Il Verde Veronese_ '?"

"Yes. Then he brought me home."

"I saw you," he turned off the streaming water, "he likes you."

"He's my friend."

"And you're mine."

"We're nothing." You could hear his heart shatter in a million pieces, nostrils twitching uncontrollably, his eyebrows risen in the most vulnerable look his self-enforced stoicism allowed to pass through, hemorrhaging through microexpressions. "We're 'Best Friends with Dominant and Submissive Benefits'. The fuck is that? Should we make up an acronym and start some sort of trend in the world?! This is nothing, Ren! I'm getting nothing out of it, just scratching my itch. And more or less, better or worse, anyone could do that. _You know_ that. I'm wasting my time, you're fucking around with yours because you can, but _I_ can't anymore. I don't want to anymore... I never felt young and I'm definitely not getting any younger and I am fucking baffled I even got to live this far. Baffled and desolated. But if I'm gonna keep being here... I want... something. I'm not gonna change, I know things in general won't change, but... some things could."

"I thought you wanted this. I can't... I don't want to hurt you. If we went further than this arrangement... I could hurt you."

"But you already do..."

You knew it was your fault - if you felt distressed was due to loving him. And that had never been part of the deal.

He had so much more to say, but you verbalizing that, at that moment, made him feel infinitesimal, less than a germ. He still resented Matt, but was far more infuriated at himself. Maybe the solution was to not love you anymore. That way nothing would hurt, he idiotically thought. If he detached from you, perhaps you would be free from him and him from you.

Kylo guided you to the tub, waited for you to sit in the warm bath he had imagined would be in with you, noticed the bottom of the toilet and stared at the mixture of semen and womb lining in the water for a bit, left finger on the flush button.

Felt like eight years.

After pressing it, he exited the restroom, redressed and departed without another word, leaving you watching the bathroom door for long minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	67. Pivotal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, has been written since last year, been slightly edited to fit the current events.

You were uncertain of what to do and how to conduct yourself following that episode from the former week, so you gathered courage to leave your home and head out to Ren's apartment, decided to figure out what and if there were new terms to your liaison. Him walking out hadn't been a proper answer, a legitimate decision, for how many times had he done the same? Even you? 

Ditching your shoes, you then collapsed on his sofa, groaning, legs thrown onto the backrest, arms fallen above your head like Cabanel's "Venus", your shades escaping your grip and rolling along the lounging sectional. Kylo raised his eyebrows, glancing at you, and kept reading his magazine.

"You can't sleep here tonight," came cold, clipped, articulated.

Your skull aimed in his direction, a light inquisitive sneer washed over but you didn't want to press him.

"I have a date", his tone completely phlegmatic, as if he heard what went through your mind.

Everything inside you got punched, not just your stomach. But you changed posture and distressingly attempted to seem unaffected. 

"That's nice," your voice unfortunately rising a whole octave, "anyone I know? Hah, that was a stupid qu-..." You got up on your feet and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. Anything but sitting right there next to him.

"I don't believe you know this person, _caracal_..."

"' _Cara_... _cal_ '... That's very... specific..." You mumbled into the cup.

Downing the liquid, you rinsed the highball glass and set it to dry upside down.

"Well, I only stopped by to return this," you quickly reached for the book he had lent you and imperceptibly shook the bookmark off of it and into your bag, "was quite good. Thank you."

He lowered the digest and peered at the essay you were presenting.

"Do you want to discuss it?" he threw.

You had developed a habit of examining any interesting, thought-provoking works that both of you had the chance to read. You abandoned the book on the couch's arm, since he didn't interact with it.

"Hm, not right now, I'm going to the store and I have other errands to run before that, so maybe next time, if that's okay?" Your hand snagged the keys from the table and nonchalantly pointed at him, while retreating towards the entrance.

He simply observed you make a fool of yourself, clumsily undertaking the task of slipping back into your shoes in your rush.

Then the motherfucking cherry on top of the whole shit-cake was uncontrollably spat out:

"Good luck with your date, man!" 

Fonzie finger guns. And that octave again. 

You could not fucking believe yourself, so you exited, closed the door behind you. And you stood there, shockingly smiling, not sure for how long. Couldn't even think. Was like someone turned the light off on your brain.

Finally you made your way to the elevator, descended and gave the porter such a wide-eyed grin he might have thought you were on hallucinogens. You didn't stop till reaching the subway station, you couldn't sit through the ride and you couldn't wipe the idiotic smug off your face.

Home. Door closed, keys and bag dropped, shoes off, just standing there. You looked around your studio from where you were and tears accurately jumped from your eyes, quietly, despite the furious shaking you were trying to control. Your mind was filled with nothing but "I have no right to feel this way. Stop. Just the other day I told him... What am I doing? Stop. Do I have the right to feel this way? I don't have the right to feel this way. Stop it. We're just friends." A torn laughter erupted from your chest, quickly turning into a screech, knees crumpling down, waist folding over until your forehead touched the ground. You hit the side of your thigh till you felt like you broke your hand, till the tendons in your leg felt like they snapped.

You couldn't do it anymore.

 

*

 

Kylo's gaze fixed impotently upon his phone, tense, fighting impulses, till he hopped off the couch and forced himself to prepare lunch. Which he had imagined earlier on he would be having with you. Peeved by the sizzling sound of the pan, intensified and echoing in his head, he walked to the cell and texted you: 

" _Get the new orange juice with the blue label._ "

It wasn't so much a request as it was to see if you would reply. He circled back to the pan, resumed cooking and had the meal. Nothing came. He shoved his plate, silverware, glass and that morning's mug in the full washing machine, grabbed the phone off the counter and started another text, but deleted it all before sending it, thoughtlessly pressing two of the appliance's buttons while opening his date contact - an alluring blonde with legs for days, who had been wearing a revealing top that allowed him to see all the way down to her belly button ring. And he hadn't been one hundred percent sober in that concert at the bar two days ago. Kylo reviewed their texts. A deep sigh into the void led his fingertips to type a message and press send, then backtracked, locked his screen and launched his phone against the wall, maybe the bookshelf, fingers combing through his long raven locks and sitting on the couch, leaning back, lower limbs set apart and stretched ahead, huge hands pushing against his eyelids, covering his entire face. 

"Ffffffffffffffuuuuuuuck!"

He remained fanned out on the couch, limp, head then dangling to his left, furrowed eyebrows on eyes that found the wide window through where the high sun was shining, another terribly hot Summer threatening to arrive soon in the city. 

So tired. 

It was madness. He couldn't do it anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll have a break from this next time.
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	68. Pertinacious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was not going to post today, because I wanted to give you guys a break from all the angst and had nothing written till 2 this morning. Then this came to be.

"Daddyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

"Jesus, fuck!" Ben muttered, startled, "what?" he yelled to his daughter, getting up from his office chair at home and strolling to the twin's room. "What did I tell you about screaming all of a sudden?"

"But it wath urgthent!"

"What can possibly be so urgent in the life of a five-year-old?"

"Almotht sixth!"

"Let me rephrase that then: what can possibly be so urgent in the life of an almost-six-year-old?"

"... cuddleth."

"Cuddles?!"

She was so his daughter. It took all the strength in him not to chuckle.

She nodded, "I didn't thee you all day, thinthe lunth time..."

"Cari... it's two fifty-six in the afternoon," he checked his watch, "I need to work. What are you doing with your time, kiddo?"

"I wath taking the animalth to the doctor-"

"The animals' doctor is a 'veterinarian'," Ben helped.

"They were going to the thee the doctor and-"

"It's 'veterinarian', say it: ve-te-ri-na-ri-an."

"Ve-te-ne-"

"'Ri', not 'ne', ve-te-ri-na-"

"Daddy!" she adorably and angrily pointed to her father.

"I didn't say 'daddy', I said 'veterinarian'."

"Daddy! I'm trying to exthplain thomething!"

"And I'm trying to teach you something!"

"Teacth me after, I'm telling thomething!"

Ben exaggerated his shocked expression, jaw dropped, turning to his quiet son, who was leaning over crossed arms and looking at the colorful figures of his book on the activity table.

"What happened to your sister?"

The boy lifted his big eyes, sparse brows arched in confusion, glancing at his twin and then at the perplexed dad and shrugged, little hands rising at the sides before clearing his hair off his face and going back to the book about the great lizards of old.

This time the adult laughed, facing such a genuine reaction to a question too non-literal for his little boy to understand the meaning. He moved from the door frame and sat on the ground, pulling his daughter to him.

"So what were you saying? I'm sorry I interrupted you. Can I hug you while you tell me?"

Cari moved to his lap while carrying a plastic cow in one hand and a fluffy Mimi pink bunny on the other, sitting sideways and directed to Ben's right side, letting him hold her as she proceeded with the narrative of the events.

"The bunny ith blind, thee?" she showed her dad the missing chemically modified, polymeric material eye.

"What happened?"

"He lotht it in battle."

"What battle?"

"The great battle against the grasshoppers! There were _many_ of them!" interrupted the young male, with a dramatic and sudden stance, clawed up tiny hands towards the air.

"Was there blood?" the dad inquired.

"No, just carrot juice," he said, giggling and making his sister cackle, sitting down once again and turning his page.

"He needth a new eye. Or an eye path."

"What about the cow?"

"The cow ithn't feeling well. Look at her thpoth!"

Lifting the plastic toy closer to her father's face, who had to lean back so his eyes could focus on the object shown too closely, she meant to bring forth the fact that the animal's printed motes were fading.

"And why is the cow looking like that?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. Where do you usually play with the cow?"

"Here."

"Only in the room?" Ben, knowing the answer, pressed on.

"No... I take the cow to eat grath outhide..."

"And what else?"

"... Thometimeth the cow ith in the mud with the pigth."

"Ah, and what happens after the cow gets dirty?"

"... I wath it in the bathroom think."

"And I'm guessing that happens a lot?"

"It'th hot now, Daddy!"

"Sure is! But if you wash it many times with water and soap, it's only natural the painted spots will come off! But you know what? It's fine, because there are a few breeds of cows that are all white, you know? And others have different colors."

"Really?"

"Mhm, come with me," he rapped his fingerpads on her thigh to get up and let him get onto his feet as well, the boy following along the pair, having heard the hovering arrival of further knowledge.

Quickly taking his phone from the surface of his desk back in the office, the fatherly giant searched literally for what he had mentioned, scrolling through among the image results so nothing would be fortuitously graphic and unrelated, returning to the generalized results and opening a site that offered brief descriptions as well as illustrations of those breeds and others, everyone sitting on the rosewood-toned, linen Lawson couch along the wall, two widly hairy heads almost conjoining in front of the device as he showed his kids about diversity in the farm animal kingdom.

"But! This shouldn't mean you're going to try and make the spots disappear! Let it happen over time. If you even _want_ them to disappear... I am not getting you another cow just because you regret removing the spots off of this one, you two have enough toys as it is."

Cari threw her head back, a pleading mien with eyes closed, half towards the parent, half towards the ceiling, watching her plans going down the drain.

"We can paint it in other colors though, right? Or draw the spots again?" Aric questioned.

"Yes, but if you're going to do it with markers it will come off. Maybe with gouache, but it won't last long."

"It's okay, we can change the cow whenever we want to."

"Yeth! You had a good idea!" his twin explicitly articulated what her brain thought, softly patting her brother's cheek with her little fingers.

"Alright, but I have to get back to work now. Go away and play! And don't you think I forgot about 'veterinarian'! We're learning that later!" Ben sent them off and raised his voice as they skipped and ran to their room, noticing as the boy reappeared and stood by the entryway. "What is it, Bubs?"

"Where's Desi?"

"She's working, you know that."

"But she doesn't eat dinner with us now..."

"That's because whenever she comes it's already past dinner time, so she eats somewhere else before coming here in the evening."

He abode by his dad's answer, lingering, hushed, pondering about it. Ben abandoned the sofa and perched himself back on his chair, having the child approaching him in a hurried pace, both hands clasping the adult forearm on the table.

"Can we call Auntie?"

"On the phone?"

"Yes, but to see her."

"I can text her and see if she can later or tomorrow. Why?"

"I want to see her," the miniscule fingertips meticulously lifted and brushed his father's arm hair, tiny voice whispering.

The youngest triplet combed through his son's long licorice locks, sweeping them off his eyes his his own digits, "you wanna see how Auntie is doing?" The boy nodded. "Alright, but don't be sad if we can't call her. She might be busy."

"Okay, but tell her I would really like to see her. Please."

"Deal. When I hear from her, I'll tell you."

"Okay. Thank you."

The boy reached for Ben's neck, both engaging in an embrace, the grown-up watching the young human go out his office and join the beast health concerned sister. Though she wasn't concerned about the cow anymore, no: Brunehilde was being dressed up and accessorized for a tea party with Stitch and Robot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some visuals:  
> Toys: cow from[this (scary) set](http://tinyurl.com/y9b5zsyn), [bunny](http://tinyurl.com/y9akt9f3), but in [this color](http://tinyurl.com/y7hrwcck)  
> Ben's office sofa: [here](http://tinyurl.com/y82afhvc), but in [this color](http://tinyurl.com/y87jebhj)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	69. Residuum

" _Hey, hot stuff. Howzit? My son asking 4 u. Says he like 2 c u. How u doin?_ "

You had seen the text a couple of hours ago, yet were postponing your answer. Ben's texts were a rarity and, without making any judgement, you weren't quite ready for whatever it was he would ask of you.

Had been a week since you ran from Kylo's apartment and having to deal with something as casually divulged as him having a date wasn't being easy - unable to properly work with your awfully bruised hands, bones feeling broken, you had no _élan_ to do anything, regardless of what that could be. Even using the bathroom was an embodied trial, though happened once a day: with no food and barely any water intake, your self-pummeled physique required very little aside from lying down. Everything ached, everything had been relentlessly punched till debilitation, till you rose your fists above your head and slammed them on the concrete kitchen counter with all the strength left in you and tumbled to your knees, instantaneously losing all sensation in your paws apart from what you could describe as an emanating motion of pain. It wasn't throbbing, wasn't a burning tingle, it was almost like invisible energy spread out and off of your hands, the rest of your arms unable to do anything else but fall closer to your torso as you cradled the extremities on your lap. Your thighs, those had been pulsating, swollen _rectus femoris_ and _vastus lateralis_ from hitting them dead, over and over and over and over again, till your tendon felt like it snapped in between the muscles and the bone. Your head... luckily, or unluckily, you had concentrated the vast majority of the blows to your limbs.

The _hematomata_ started surfacing about an hour later on your fingers, but took three full days to appear on your thighs. And they were extensive and it was unbearable to shuffle just to urinate, even folding the toilet paper was excruciating.

Nevertheless, you needed that. And you would need the postliminary four weeks, almost five, to fully repair yourself.

You body, at least.

At the moment, all you could do was repose and wonder how you still had so many tears to spill despite drinking so little, though they were pure salt trails all over your face, leaving the skin rough. You avoided everyone, yet submitted to a phone call from your mother, where once again and as always you didn't let her know anything specific about you or what had happened, replying at snail's speed to a few of her texts throughout the following month, touching your phone's screen as lightly as if you didn't want to wake it up.

Right. Ben.

" _I'm doing fine. How are you and the kids?_ "

Surprisingly, his answer didn't take long to arrive.

" _Gud. But I know u're not fine. Matt told me._ "

" _Told you about what?_ "

" _That he told u. N Kylo caught u._ "

" _Caught us? There was nothing to be caught._ "

" _But he knows. He known 4 long time. N Kylo almst lost his cool in FL._ "

" _...Am I the only one who doesn't know what you're talking about?_ "

" _Can I call?_ "

" _No._ "

" _Pls? It's easier._ "

Not wanting to chat, you still wished to know what the youngest triplet was referring to.

" _I hate you. Call._ "

You glanced at the time displayed on your cell, one oh-nine in the morning, the phone call coming not even ten seconds later.

You sighed, cleared your throat with strain.

"Hey."

"Hello?" he sounded puzzled.

"Yes."

"Wow! You sound horrible! Were you sleeping?"

"If I was textin-... nevermind. No, just say what you have to say!"

"Jesus, okay! So, Florida, you were lookin' fine and Kylo was spraying his territorial, threatening broodiness all around you-"

"Funny, didn't feel like it on the event," you recalled the blonde bombshell going and sitting at your table, flirting with your Master.

"You are... so... unaware... it could actually be endearing if it wasn't so complicated... Well! I was poking the Sasquatch, cause that's what I do, and I saw Matt looking at you when we were dancing. Like, looking-looking. And I saw it and Kylo saw it. Then at the pool, I was with him and, even though he doesn't say it, he's been jealous of my kids always wanting to play with you, because that usually means Uncle Matt is tagging along too. And Kylo isn't the relaxed kind around, well, anyone, like we know. Then, I have no clue _what_ happened between those two, but the next day at the beach? The big one was pissed! And it might have been because even _I_ noticed Matt taking pictures of you? But Kylo was throwing his death stares before that, so I don't know..." he deliberated. "Long story short, of course we all knew Matt liked you, from like, when Kylo first brought you to the house. But it's been years and I guess we just assumed it was only a crush. Then Vermont."

"What 'then Vermont'? Matt avoided me as much as possible, I started to think I had offended or hurt him somehow!"

"Really? He kept staring. To be honest, _I_ kept staring and then instead of one jealous monster, there were two, and Matty was all kinds of salty, with nothing to distract him from you getting banged by the brother he always looked up to... Which I don't understand, we're the same fuckin' age," he muttered the last part.

"I-"

"And then the morning Aric slept with you guys? When he saw you three coming down for breakfast and realized my boy had stayed with you... I think it crushed him. Because... that's what he had always wanted, you know? To have a family of his own."

You felt nauseated, dizzy and your heart couldn't take any more of _any_ of that. You were an awful person.

"Ben..."

"Listen... I have no idea how this must feel like. But I know you're not alright and I know that _you_ knowing this shit can't be easy and I don't know what's going on there or with you or with any of them, it's not my life. I poke and mess with you guys, but I care. And I can't be involved in much... but my kids want to see you. Can you come up here for a while? Bring your work along and stay here for a few days. I got nothing but space! And two chipmunks to love and bother the hell out of you."

"So I'm running away from two brothers... and hiding in the third one's house? See how this only becomes worse?"

"Forget about that. Just come. It's been years since you were here last."

"I... I can't drive."

"What? What do you mean? Didn't you learn?"

"No, not that... Of course I know how to drive! I can't drive right now..."

"I wasn't asking ya to leave now, in the middle of the night..."

"Fucking hell, Ben! I fucked myself up and I _cannot_ move! For a long while! Until shit starts to heal!"

Muteness from the other side of the line. 

"Do you... Do you want me to... Should I call an ambulance? Kylo?" he finally added, voice leveled, however in shock, uncertain of what he could do right then, being four hours away from you.

"No! No! Please... It didn't just happen..." you panted, gasping in and out, wincing in pain, trying to calm yourself down, "It's been a few days. I... I can't go right now. It's bad. I'm assuming next week the pain will alleviate and... I might be able to make a visit in a couple of weeks... But... my hands are pretty bad. And it will take far more than that for the marks to go away..."

"Are you ashamed? Of the marks? And what kind of marks are we talking about?"

"Bruises. Just that."

"Alright. Are you ashamed? That people might see them or... ashamed of having provoked them?"

"No... The only visible ones would be on my hands, the others look far worse but can easily be covered with clothes. I'm not ashamed, but if people saw them they wouldn't get it, naturally. They would look at me like someone beat me up or like I was in an accident... I wouldn't want your babies to see them... and it feels wrong to lie to them."

"That's not an issue. Your pain is an issue. And your well being is what matters."

You snickered sadly.

"I don't want to explain why it hurts if they accidentally _brush_ against me while we're playing..."

"But they could help."

"How?"

"They can distract you with their fantastic made up stories and outrageous horseplay. My boy is worried about you and needs to see you. Even if just a videocall. But I really do think you should come up here whenever you can, you can get your own room, you can work, spend time with them, walk around in the neighborhood, because it's safe and only creepy in a Joneses way... The backyard looks all nice now, you can bring your bikinis... or not, you know?" the widening and the shrouded lift of resonance on the final words implied a broad, suggestive smile from the indecorous, bawdy man.

"Ben!"

He convulsed in a muzzled laughter, aiming for quietness in such late hours of the night.

"I had to try. But seriously, come over, they wanna see ya. We all do. And I know we can't really help, but they love you and would like to see you. They're worried. If you want, I'll drive down there and pick you up."

"I don't know... I don't want to bother... And Desiree, she might not like it, I-"

"Don't worry about that and forget about being an annoyance or whatever you think in your complicated head that you are or might be. I am inviting you. I want you to come."

"But I can't now."

"Okay, but let me know how you're feeling throughout the next week, yeah? And... wanna talk to your youngest boyfriend? He misses you..."

"I miss him too... and Cari... they're growing up so fast... Maybe in a couple of days I'll call you guys."

"Alright. You're keeping your promise to my children!"

"I am," you giggled, "I won't let them down. Now, go to sleep!"

"Hm, okay. Wanna help me get off?"

"Night, Ben."

You hung up, chuckling and dropping your cell on the floor next to your mattress, exhaling till your lungs were depleted, your mind going a thousand miles, wondering if going to Massachusetts would be a good move, thinking about being unable to move, thinking about Ren, thinking about Matt. And the will to pee approaching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be a nice feelings chapter, but shit happens. Constantly.
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	70. Manifestation - Part I

Another week.

The lights were off and you had lain on your bed for the last four hours wearing nothing but a thick and cozy cotton blend, long-sleeved daisy color undershirt, watched the sun go down and snoozed in the chilled air of your air conditioned home. All the while submerged in the drowning depths of the dominant depression that both cultivated and compressed the congenital convalescences of your mind, your struck shape in several shades of violet and green. You couldn't read what you were feeling - actually, you didn't even believe you were feeling anything. You weren't numb, didn't feel numb... It was... empty. Not the kind of emptiness one usually claims to know amongst cries, but true hollowness. Like you could tell there was a slim screen of skin with the form of your body and inside... dead air. And at first it made you lethargic. Then, the worriment, because you missed the pain, you _had_ to feel it, had to have your everlasting passionate torment. What made you, you.

The resonance of the buzzer snatched you from the prostrated slumber of Sandman's hold. Befuddled, you abnormally dragged yourself to the door, pressing the intercom's button and hearing the visitor grumbling something along the lines of 'fuck, it's hot', allowing him entrance past the vestibule and leaving the front door ajar, crossing your refuge and depositing your weight onto the mattress once again. You heard him lock the door, apprehensively mumbling about the instilled blackout in your home, suddenly shivering, his eyes taking a while to adjust from the clarity and glow of manmade lights just outside the studio. He moseyed discreetly till he saw you lying down, nothing but a sweater on. Taking his shoes off, he carried forward, shedding his bag and quietly placing it over the cushions of your pine-hued polyester loveseat, soft footsteps leading to you. 

He glanced to the bathroom, just to make sure. Slowly, he laid next to you and covered your bottom half with the loose ends of your comforter.

You weren't there.

Matt removed his glasses, setting them atop the low surface on his side, turned to you and just stared at your face in the dark, the moonlight and traveling illumination from outside barely making anything clear. You appeared relaxed, left palm faced up next to your chin. He placed his fingers on it.

"Work was boring today. Was stuck in staff meetings for hours, that's a monthly thing we have going on to see the status of our goals now. They're so pointless. Serve no real purpose but to break the day's timetable and to cause anxiety about presenting numbers and redesigning plans in front of everyone. And then they try to brainwash you into thinking it's a pat in the back, with coffee and donuts served," he giggled, languishing and scoffing. "I was hoping you would tell me about your day now or... start going off about 'the Man'... but I guess that's not happening tonight, so I'll just continue rambling about this nonsense, if you don't mind." His voice was a soft spoken baritone and he paused, waited for you to intervene, waited for something. "There's this new guy there - older than me, but not with a lot of experience. For some reason they decided to shove him in my office for the next three weeks. Like, 'here's a promotion for you and here's a pretentious asshole that will yap all day long about how everything was so much better in his previous job for you to babysit, have fun'. I just... get this _urge_ to punch him every single day," he scratched the left side of his nose, lowering his hand to the upper lip as he kept scratching, the faint sound of trimmed nails scraping against the very short hairs on his face reaching your ears. "Oh, know what I got? A new dining table. Isn't it weird? Feels so adult. And... nummm-bing." His last word breathier, dissipating with its meaning.

Your pinky and ring fingers spasmed, touching his own large digits, your features lingering in passiveness. He hesitated for a moment. Then his own left hand slid across yours, interlacing fingers, the apex of them stretched out by the thickness of his much larger hand. The pulsing ache animated you, eyebrows furrowing, a deeper intake of air causing your heart to beat stronger against your chest, eyelashes flitting. Back to normal. Holding Matt's semblance steadily in the dark, you could barely register how he also peered at you. Noticing the change, he didn't want to prolong his divagation about work. He didn't want to think about how scared he was of life, of the meaningless daily grind, of being alone, of ending up alone, of letting jealousy devour him. He didn't want to think about the stupid table he bought. 

So he let go of your hand. 

And moved closer to you on the bed. 

His clothed knees touched your shins, large paw hovering above your shoulder before playing with your hair, smoothing over it, combing it, making you feel torpid. 

He looked so much like Ren... 

With the tips of your digits you traced the scar across his face that wasn't there. Then felt for his cheek, felt the texture of his skin, imagining the beauty mark that hid right behind his left earlobe, which wasn't there either. Nor was the tiny bump that lined with the tail of his eye. And over his eyebrow... one mole missing. There was one, but not in the correct place, being further up towards the hairline. You stopped, rubbed your pads together, almost preferring to believe there was something wrong with your senses. He could tell what you were doing by the second time you manually went over his face, taking your wrist, making you stop, your whole frame seeping into the mattress. The affectionate giant pushed on his flank, connecting your bodies, long arm sheltering you, the other one folded under the pillow supporting his head. Plush lips joined with your forehead, the inner clammier spot leaving a warm trace on it. His torso turned over yours, weight propped on the elbow, and his faulty exhale hit your skin before you felt the mouth closing on it, laying lazy kisses beneath your jaw, hair follicles throughout your body tightening. He pulled your right leg over him as you suppressed a wince, hand then skimming towards your back and lowering to caress your naked bottom.

"Matty...?"

He kissed your cheek and stopped, your small hand covering his mouth. You shook your head almost imperceptibly. The blond released your frame, laid flat on his spine staring at the stripped high ceiling, inhibiting his impulse. The bulge in his pants was evident.

"I rea-"

"Shh!"

"You know I'v-"

"Shh!" A shaky sigh escaped you, but did not make things easier, nor clearer, as you had wished. "Maybe it would be best for you to go."

"Maybe. But I don't want to."

Your arm went above your head, flicking the switch for the dim fairy lights to go on. Silently, you stared at his profile, watching him tensing and releasing his jaw, like he was chewing on his tongue or nothing. Like Kylo.

"Don't say something you'll regret."

"I don't need to. You already know." 

Such a matter of fact tone for insinuations. 

Was quiet for a long while.

Rising on your _olecranons_ , you sat up and cautiously removed the long sleeve shirt, readjusting your position to face him.

"You can look," unmoving, your hands relaxed over each other and over your lap, "and you can touch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been written since early this year, but was intended to have only one part. Didn't end this way though... now apparently there's two (or more) parts. -shrugs-
> 
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	71. Manifestation - Part II

Matt sat up, his countenance contorted in frightened alarm as his eyes bounced from the ocean of broken capillaries in your thighs to the damage on your hands to your calm expression.

"Did Kylo did this to you?"

"No."

"What happened?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does!" He reached to your extremities, but hesitated to touch them, afraid of hurting you and of further unveiling your body by removing them from the spot they had adopted, between your legs and shrouding of your sex. "Please, tell me what happened."

"No one did this to me, I did."

"Why?" afflicted, his mouth hung open, breaths taken through it.

"I don't wanna talk about it right now. Please."

Your eyes remained low, on his hands, throughout the exchange, Matt searching your face in the dim light like he could find clues.

He relinquished, at least audibly.

You lingered, in silence, looking at one another once determination returned to you, enough courage to direct your sight to him.

His bleached curls were disheveled, his glasses off, he had left either a blazer or a cardigan that he tended to wear to work in the car, you were sure. His tie too. Unless he didn't wear one that day, with his short-sleeve, white polka dot on burgundy button down shirt and the stipulated khakis. You couldn't make up his belt, the tall man having untucked the ends of his shirt. Or perhaps he hadn't worn it tucked in, the ends not wrinkled.

Just when he was finally moving, you spoke, almost unnerved:

"Undress. First. Before." You shook your head to the jumbled words sprouting from your throat, his extremity retracting like he was about to touch incandescent flames, goosebumps covering your skin as the air was cyclically chilled. "I wanna see you."

"Okay. Uh... Yeah. Of course."

Throwing his long legs to the border of the mattress, he got up on his bare feet and began unbuttoning his shirt away from you, two seconds of hesitation regarding where he was going to store the clothes, deciding then the floor would be fine.

"Can you face me?"

"Of course, I'm sorry," he offered, swiveling to you.

"Don't be sorry about silly things..."

One item off and you saw the belt, one you had seen many times before, _bistre_ brown leather and bushed metal buckle, which he was undoing, opening the top button and zipper of the slim fit camel-colored chinos he wore, pulling them down and standing in front of you in his tight Hanes' light gray boxers.

He wasn't a huge, muscled beast like Kylo, he didn't have Ben's buffed physique either. Matt was broad, solid yet soft, in much better shape than anyone who lived on takeout should probably be. Pale. No scars unless old acne ones were to be accounted for... You hoped your face was as impavid as the _Rapa Nui_ 's _mo'ai_ when you glanced along his midsection, only stopping at his feet, while thinking that wasn't an average sized bulge you distinguished.

You felt an unexplained dread, not from his proportions.

Steadying your eyes on his, he seemed to await a couple of seconds before undressing completely - after so many nights thinking about you, it was nothing like he had imagined: he wasn't quick nor resolute to act; he wasn't confident; there weren't candles; you weren't bound nor wearing frilly boy shorts and a lacy babydoll. As a matter of fact, you weren't wearing anything. And he wasn't wearing anything.

Matt did manage to somewhat conceal his genitalia, while quickly restoring to his seat on the bed once again, this time mimicking your pose, crossed legs pulled towards himself, addressing you, and, unlike yours, his hands ensconced instead of simply draping over in their apparent nonchalance.

He wanted to ask you if you were sure about doing it, but he didn't know exactly what "it" was going to be in the first place. He realized, then, he was missing out on you by worrying too much and being in his head when he wanted to be in yours.

"Can I touch you?" you asked, whispering, apprehensive.

His lips parted, an audible breath being taken through them.

"Yeah."

Still, you didn't move, simply kept staring at his shoulders and chest, down his arms. Him too, studying the tiny raised bumps on your breasts caused by the continuous exposure to air conditioning blasting a comfortable nippy temperature, which tightened them. Your muscles spasmed from it, barely noticeable, but it seemed to be the signal he had been waiting for.

Pushing his butt forward on the mattress, his shins touching your knees in your sitting positions, he very softly took your hands in his, feeling the heat exuded from your pussy as he picked them, your eyes falling for a moment on the member then uncovered, as you realized you wouldn't be able to properly use your upper limbs. Like always, timing seemed appalling in your life. An to add to it, you certainly had not planned for any of that to happen, shower not taken, body hair freely sprouting. Nevertheless, you owed no apologies.

Matt's thumbs rubbed the back of your palms, scanning between them and your vulva, then partially displayed. Your fingers met the tenderness of his lips, first the left side ones, then the right. Letting go of them, he planted his fists by your thighs, leaned in and kissed you.

A full peck on the lips. Soft. Slow.

Then retreated no more than two inches, his eyes closed and yours open, staggered.

You wanted to scream your soul out. But you couldn't do that to him.

He didn't know.

Your entire frame was shaking, Matt going in for another kiss and another one and another one, his tongue discreetly making its way against your lips, meeting your own as you eased into it.

He was warm, tasted of spit, having not eaten nor drank anything in the last few hours.

The enamored man paused, his Roman nose caressing the tip of yours.

"I've wanted this for so long..." he muttered, breath united with yours.

"Then do it."

Kissing you some more, Matt descended your neck, inhaling your scent and planting small oscules along the way, paving a saliva marked path to your breasts, causing you to lean back onto your hands with pain you didn't show, as he gently cupped each boob like they could break and gave them a little squeeze after.

"You can... be rougher than that..."

Grabbing them a little firmer, the large male regained new strength to worship your chest, becoming enthralled by the hardness of your nipples, cold and excitement and anticipation mingling in you, vermilion tinted pillows powdering your torso before they closed on one of the peaks, repeating the sequence for both: peck, breath, suck, tongue flick, teeth press.

You sighed, dextral paw going to his tresses.

"Too much?"

"Not at all," you shook your head.

"Want to lie back?"

He pilled both cushions behind you and you complied, watching your friend move to a spot in between your thighs.

"I... I didn't shower," was revealed.

It was never an issue with Ren. Sometimes he even preferred it that way, wanting to taste you the way you were, after a long, hot day or two. But you weren't _naïve_ to think everyone was as big of an animal as you and he were, so you worried.

"I came from work straight here, I don't mind if you don't mind," he also informed, reaching a consensus, you parting your legs for him.

The stiffening of the member was easily spotted.

"Do you want me to blow you first?"

Motionless, he flushed a tad.

"Uh... I-I don't think I'll last long, so... I rather take care of you first."

"Oh, okay."

Lying on his stomach, Matt petted lower stomach, afraid to touch your thighs and reaching your groin, kissing your outer labia and massaging it.

He wasn't forceful, wasn't electric, taking his time and allowing for your nervousness, as well as his, to melt away and give place to pleasure, bringing you to orgasm in two occasions.

"Stop! Stop... Please... Get inside'a me!" your weakly and clumsily clawed at his arms, wanting him to get on top. "Wait, wait..."

With strain, you rouse from the bed and moved to your dresser, heartbeat still pounding against your rib cage, irregular breaths subsiding as you revolved everything in your drawer and looked through all the clothes as fast as you could, Matt simply admiring your figure, having rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows.

Back on the platform, a tiny collection of different brands of condoms was dropped on the sheets, different sizes to choose from. Well, really just two options, but each brand had a few millimeters difference between the same size and it could make a difference. Maybe. You didn't know, you never had a penis to know how much it would tighten around it.

The handsome, caring giant grabbed his glasses and looked through the lenses without actually putting them on, checking for any sort of specific measurement indication. He put two to the side.

"These are old..." He notified, automatic apologies mumbled by you, looking at the segregated ones and tossing them near the trash can. "I... think... this... these fit."

You swept the rest off the comfortable, spongy surface and watched him rip open the golden foil with black lettering, however he stopped and looked over at you.

"Please..." You begged, disapproving him to even ask out loud, like it would interrupt the whole thing. "Lie back."

He reclined over the pillows he had previously fluffed for you, observing your shift to the end of the bed, kneeled in between his legs.

Matt was large. Not as big as Ren, or so it seemed, you couldn't quite tell - he had less girth for sure, making his member look even longer than what it was, though it roughly suggested to be similar length to your Master's when comparing with your hands. Or former Master... You were a little surprised to find the blond shaved completely, used to seeing his upper and lower limbs and chest free of fibers, it had never occurred to you the sweet man would be entirely clear of body hair. He had a bulging vein to the right flank, snaking along the side and under, a small dark brown beauty spot almost halfway down the underside of the shaft and two tiny ones towards his left on the scrotum.

Elegant and beautiful.

You licked your lips and he couldn't have braced himself enough for either the idea of you finally touching him, blowing him after all those years, or the actual feeling of your sopping, hot mouth closing over the head of his dick, even after you kissed the tightened skin of his erection.

Pungent, warm musk, making your lingual papillae tingle, activating, increasing saliva production as a result. 

Testing and taking it as deep as you could, you realized it didn't feel like your mouth would burst like you were used to, still you choked and gagged due to the length, position and anxiety in you, Matt moaning but his eyes never leaving the vision you were.

"Oh-okay, okay, I think... I'm ready," taking your hand from its spot over his lower abdomen, he guided you up, himself getting on his knees while rolling and unfolding the rubber down his dick. You watched him, as if time decelerated for a bit, and the extremely logical thought of how you had never seen him in that position came to you - messy curls and flushed, his neck creasing as his large paws with fingertips too big for meticulous labor such as putting on a resistant, yet thin condom was, concealed teeth biting on his lower lip, cock swollen forward.

You wanted him, but kept the thought to yourself.

Once done, he minded you, who separated your legs from one another and spat on your hand to apply to your entrance, laying fully flat, Matt taking his position on top of you. Then very slowly, he prodded your cunt with the tip, one, two, three times before stroking it against you to increase lubrication and tranquilization, pushing again. You took the glans, your muscles opening in a wavy motion and remaining stretched, receiving the rest of the hardon till it snugged adjacently to your cervix, mouths hanging in debauched miens.

"Don't move," he groaned, "ah-don't move!"

"I am not moving."

"You are... Inside!"

"I am trying not to."

"Can _I_ move?"

"Yes. Please."

Gradually retracting, he pushed back into you and began an unsteady compass of soft lunges, sliding in and out of your pussy, kissing your face and your lips, his hot breath on you. You didn't moan, but sighed, respiring deeply in that languid spell he was putting you under, his hips meeting yours a bit faster, grunts muffled against your neck. A harder thrust paralyzed his body, then a second one, spilling the seed into the protective barrier between your bodies, the shallow inhales becoming more profound, his hands squeezing you, his mouth kissing you.

When he regained enough strength, Matt vacated your insides and went to your bathroom.

For a minute, you were alone with your feelings.

When he rejoined and cuddled with you, you asked if he would sleep over.

He ordered food for two, opposing your dispirited protests, and held you all night long, always fondling you, always smooching you.

That following sunrise, you woke up snuggling, Matt greeting you with languorous pecks, your hand traveling to the morning wood. Taking your cheeks in his hands, he stared at you for a minute, saving the image of your pouty awakened semblance in his brain, locking away the warmth of your flesh as he took you from the back, at your request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished and edited this a few minutes ago, totally thought there was gonna be no chapter. Ha! I'm running on fumes, totally depleted after almost a year of writing this, folks. I'm so sorry for the lack of quality. :(
> 
> The vizsh:  
> Matt's clothes: [American Eagle button down](http://tinyurl.com/y8hvd8rn) and [H&M chinos](http://tinyurl.com/ycc8xjby) (underwear was the same as Chapter 40, belt from Chapter 48).
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	72. Palatini - Part I

"So who's with them?"

"Huda."

"I've heard that name before."

"Her family lives on our street, she's my go-to sitter. Smart kid."

"That's incredibly convenient."

"Sure is!"

You and Ben had just left the city behind, him picking you up like he said he would, your body not feeling as broken as the previous two weeks, but your hands seemed to be taking far too long to recover. It almost worried you. Having tried to convince the man it would be better to wait till you were fully repaired, he rejected the idea and insisted to go and get you, no more excuses. You still weren't quite sure how you would return home after that week, which was unsettling, as if it would be that complicated to get on a bus or even ask Ben. Nevertheless, you were going away for a love and cuddles spa, the best kind there was.

"How's Desiree?"

"She's fine. Working."

"That's... very lame and generic. What's going on? She wasn't around in Vermont, you seem to be very dismissive whenever she's asked about... What's up, Benny Boy?"

He curved his shoulders forward, both hands gripping the stirring wheel, head then tilting back and twisting at the neck as he tried to relax his _trapezius_ , sighing.

"She's fine, really. I'm the one who isn't so sure about any of this anymore..."

"How come?"

"I don't know... I've been alone for quite a while now and... I just wonder if this is the right move, you know?"

"Do you mean in general or something in particular?"

"Like... Do I wanna be a husband?"

"Okay... But did you want to be a dad?" He remained silent, willing to listen. "When you had the kids, it was unexpected, right? But something told you, you _had_ to be there, you _wanted_ to be there. Now they're the best part of your life. Do you think this is the same? You _don't_ _have to_ get married... No one is making you. I don't think anyone is expecting you to. And even if they are? It's your life, not theirs!"

"I changed my life and I would never want it any different now... It took a while for Desiree and I to start dating... and she likes the kids so much. But... I want them to have consistency, you know? To feel safe. I don't want to bring someone into their lives and then have that person go away or change their mind or whatever."

"Well, you kinda already did that. Brought someone into their lives."

"Yeah, but you know what I mean... She's understanding and she's nice and she's caring... She's a good person-"

"Oh, Ben..." He quietened. "'She's a good person'?" You closed your eyes, shaking your head. "It's not going well, is it? You're with her because of them..."

"I don't know what to do. They're mine, but I know they're not mine, I can't want them just to myself and not let them deal with people..."

"They socialize! They go to school and the park, right? You have them dealing with adults and other childr-"

"But I mean dealing with their, I don't know, character build-up and their personal lives..."

"... You're taking me to your house for a week, Ben. Are there going to be freakouts about this?"

"You're different," he shook his head in a dismissive scowl, "you and my brothers. The kids know you pretty much since they were born. And even though we're not that many times together now, I've seen you. This shit comes natural to you. You get on their level and know how to talk to them and how to comfort them and, like... you coexist with them. You don't try to act like a mother figure!"

"Perhaps because I don't have that responsibility."

"Okay, that's fair, but..."

He didn't continue, pressing his lips together, eyes steady on the road ahead, right hand combing the dark taupe locks back, which were getting shaggy, in need of a haircut.

"You don't have to find them a mother."

"I know. But I would like to have someone. But they're far more important."

"I know."

The rest of the interstate trip was peppered with quiet time and lighter subjects, though you did share your worries regarding playing with the twins and your dumb injuries, Ben tranquilizing you, saying they would understand if you explained it to them. _That_ you knew. You just felt guilty. All the time.

As soon as the Ford Flex pulled into the garage, you felt apprehension and enthusiasm, the tall, broad man taking your bigger bag, while you carried the backpack with your laptop, _nécessaire_ and other electronics.

"Monkey butts!" he called as you both crossed past the side entrance and stepped towards the noisy living room, where music was coming from, along laughter and babble. "I got a surprise for you!"

"You didn't tell them?" you muttered at his back.

"Didn't tell them _when_ you were coming."

Little bare feet stomped against the hardwood floors, running, approaching, two wild manes in no more than underwear, screaming and giggling their father's title, quickly turning their heads in your direction and running to you instead as they squealed in euphoria for you, Ben catching Cari's arm and pulling her up his six foot three height, knowing the hyper little girl would probably pounce on you, warning them both you were hurt and not to jump on Auntie. Getting on your knees, you took the clingy, perspiring boy against you, his strong heart beating against his chest and yours in manic fun and exertion, soft, tan limbs wrapped around your neck, kissing your cheek and your lips in desynchronization, Cari being released upon you after the sudden cut in her frenzied energy to bring her down a bit, locking herself around your _collum_ as well and rubbing her face on both yours and her brother's to make space for her kisses to land on you.

"Sweaty jellybeans!"

"Auntie, come dance!" Cari spread and lifted her arms, then sweeping your hair off your shoulder and focusing her attention on Ben immediately after, when hearing an exchange between him and the babysitter, who was about to depart, Huda informing the kids had one of the frozen pineapple pops from the freezer each, because it got too hot.

The boy still held on to you, squishy face buried in the crook of your neck, breathing quickly and noisily, your left arm around his torso, right hand pushing the curly onyx tresses back.

"What is it, baby?"

He didn't answer, looking at you with his pouty expression, eyes twitching shut and chuckling when you kissed his button nose, hugging you tight again.

"Where'th Uncle Ky?" Cari returned to your side with the imperative query.

"He's working. It's just me today."

"Are you thtaying for our birthday?"

"No, I can't. That's still a couple of weeks away, isn't it? I'm staying for one week only."

"Why?" sad, scrunchy, sparse eyebrows stung your heart.

"I can't stay that long. But we can play everyday for a whole week! Instead of just one day or two on your birthday! Seven days instead of just two! That sounds like a good trade to me, don't you agree?"

The little girl smiled in concordance, still wanting you to stay longer. Having said good bye to Huda and paying her, Ben was back, listening to the conversation. He had planned it with you, a week-long stay at their place for you to breathe a bit, avoiding both Kylo and Matt at the twins' sixth birthday party.

That first night had dancing and jokes and dinner ordered in, young ones too manic to let anyone do anything productive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck, here we go, adding unplanned chapters that force me to add even more chapters... But Jellybeans' sweaty kisses and tight hugs are the best.
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	73. Palatini - Part II

You felt the mattress under you dipping to the side, your eyelids suddenly retracting, revealing your readiness, only to find lovable little Aric sneaking into your bed. Detecting your alertness, his short eyebrows rounded upwards in lament.

"I didn't want to wake you up, Auntie..."

"It's okay, Pooh bear. Come here," shifting from your stomach to your side, your right arm lifted in an inviting way as the boy nested against you, "have you been up for long?"

"No, Daddy said he was writing emails and that after he is done with that he is going to make breakfast. He said I can sleep a little more."

You smiled.

"Where's Cari?"

"She's sleeping."

You composed the sheet covering the both of you and held him close to your chest, very gently raking his satisfyingly smelling scalp with your fingernails. When you felt yourself about to fall back into sleep, you peeked below and, noticing his thumb in his mouth, you tried to slide his extremity out remarkably slowly, his tiny left hand firmly grasping your ribbed, V-neck, strappy top and your boob. The thought of removing his grip didn't cross your mind - having already moved his other hand, you didn't want to risk waking that angel up. Besides, you've always believed there was nothing wrong with it. Granted, you weren't their mother, but you were an adamant supporter of letting babies finding things for themselves and not censor them, their development nor their behavior, if they weren't hurting anyone or themselves nor vexing anyone, and you knew Ben raised them in a similar fashion. 

You had daydreamed so many times of your own children, how they would look like, how would they be like... The lack of them was like having corroded, ridged blades carving unhurriedly and deeply in your chest, in your womb and in your soul.

For years and years and years. 

As if your brain had decided quite early in life that no, all the suffering you felt, all the anxiety and depression and demons you had weren't enough, you needed this one more thing to haunt you and taunt you forever. And better yet - make it a normal wish, an easy achievement, an accident even, for everyone else across the world, but you.

That right there, that babyboy sleeping against you with his hand inside your shirt and the messy curls that both tickled and made you almost unable to breathe, was the closest you knew you would be to motherhood. So no, you didn't move, you'd never move his hand.

Ben hadn't slept well that night, thinking about stopping by the office that week just to check in and mulling about his _fiancée_ and what his little family was shaping up to be. Stretching his arms above his head, final email sent, at last he had the whole day to spend with the rascals. During Summer break, he preferred managing from home and doing so in the early morning, so he could take the twins in small trips or simply unwind and play with them in the backyard, a definite plus to having moved to the suburbs when they turned three.

Checking the time display on his computer, he wilted at what came next: waking his daughter up. He couldn't wait for that agonizing stage to pass. Getting up on his feet, he walked quietly down the hallway, pushing the door all the way open and discerning his boy's blanket thrown back, vacant cot, tugging all of it to the foot of the bed so the sheets could air out, before kneeling down next to the snoozing girl. He smoothed her tangled hair off her features and laid his lips on the top of her chubby cheek, kissing it a dozen times, softly, coaxing her to roll on her back, little hands pawing at her father's face and neck. She shut her eyes tighter, perhaps instinctively, perhaps not, then opened them, searched her father's face and instantly frowned, whimpering. Ben nudged her tiny frame off the center and got in her bed, hugging her, whose breaths turned more afflicted, then fully bawling into his faded, astrologically descriptive coal-colored t-shirt, wee fingers clutching whatever they could.

"What is it, sweetie? Daddy wants to help you..."

The child just cried, unable to express herself any other way, his own face contorting out of her sight, tearing up, powerless as he felt like he was failing her. Pediatricians had claimed it was normal - could be stress, could be from lack of proper rest or overstimulation. But he didn't know what else he could do, trying to balance life the best way he could, attempting to provide relaxing and quiet moments to both of them before bed - perhaps it was time to see a therapist, he thought.

The convulsing dysphoria assuaged, fourteen minutes later and he could see how tired she was, exhaustion renewed really, so he rose and picked the little girl up, telling her they were going to find Aric, and walked to your room, where he assuredly assumed his male kid would be.

"You up?" he whispered from the entrance.

You simply nodded, your back to the door, slumbering munchkin at your front.

Ben rounded the bed, pulling the sheet enough to deposit his daughter next to her twin, himself joining after. The girl cheerlessly but carefully crawled to you and, craning her neck over the dizygotic genetic signature, kissed you.

"I love you, Auntie," came in a low, teary voice.

"I love you too, dragonfly."

Cari snuggled against her brother and Ben cuddled her, soft smile blooming on his face, seeing his two children napping together and at peace, his head setting on the pillow, lazy morning like he couldn't remember the last one.

Hearing the happy chirping of two birds outside the window towards the yard, you peeked from behind your lashes, the strapping man contemplating you with his hooded, slightly slanted eyes across the children.

He looked so much like Ren... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's visuals:  
> Reader's top: [here](http://tinyurl.com/ycdf7oss) (in whatever color you like, you know my shit is black by default)  
> Ben's t-shirt: [here](http://tinyurl.com/yan6vx3m)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	74. Palatini - Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the absence of quality, brevity and for the following three weeks' chapters, folks. I'm about to run to the airport at the time of posting and will be jumping around a bit during this month. I'll try my hardest to keep up with the schedule from Poland, Germany and Austria. I wanna throw up now! :D

"Waaaiiit! Nooo!"

She was getting cranky, choosing among the limited options of swimwear with her brother to go to the pool.

"Cari! He's not doing anything! Be nice!"

Dragging her to sit on your lap while you kneeled on the floor next to the open drawer of their dresser, little sets of trunks and bottoms and tops and one pieces being jumbled up and tumbling to the hardwood floor.

"I want these," Aric picked, collectedly plucking the brief-cut piece in a _celeste_ _polvere_ hue with faint-toned, brushed-on flowers.

"Then... Then..." she went through the tiny mountain of swimsuits, "Auntie, help?"

"What about this one? Can you find the top to this one? Or you don't have to wear the top..."

"Are you wearing the top of your thwimthut, Auntie?"

"Haha! Yes, I am!"

"Why?" she questioned, turning to you and studying your face.

"Because I'm supposed to, or expected to. But you don't have to wear it, you're safe and among people who love you very much and it's natural."

"But we love you... and it'th thafe..." the little girl tried to understand the double standard.

You hugged her in her rightful innocence and kissed her cheek.

"Well! Let's get changed! We're losing sunlight!"

Unabashedly, the twins dropped their underwear and switched into their chosen garments, both deciding to stick with only the bottoms and heading out the bedroom to pick up toys abandoned the previous day in the living room.

 

*

 

"Ben! Help, please?" 

You came out of the backdoor holding your elastic polyurethane and polyester blend covered breasts, your hands still not sufficiently operational for strength applied to minute things, like tying your bikini top around your neck and chest. You could almost laugh at yourself, every night typing on your laptop with the sole aid of your nails, the only way to engage slightly less stress on the ligaments and joints. Yeah, you could _almost_ laugh...

"What?" He paused from blowing his air into a chomped-on donut shaped floatie, plugging it for the time being and approaching you. "Tying that? Nah, I would help you take it off though..."

Cari strode out of the house, arms full of toys, standing by the edge of the pool and dropping them all in the clear water. 

"Jellybean, do you know how to tie knots or bows?"

"Yeth."

"You' gonna trust the knots of an almost-six-year-old? I'll enjoy watching you lose that in the first five minutes in the pool..." the able-bodied giant teased, watching you scowl.

"Ben, please! Help me!"

"Alright, alright," he moved to your back, taking the skinny straps hanging at both your sides, "as long as I can untie it too," he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, sighing.

"Fine, but just actually untying the knots, not taking it off."

"Right..." He moved on to the bands at the back of you neck, passing his large hands along your shoulders and down your arms, leaning his head to the side as he took a step to the rear, leering at your ass. "Done."

"Thank you. I'll bake you a cake later."

"Cake? Okay... as long as I can have some of that one too," his eyebrows lifted, eyes directed at your bottom.

"Cake?" Cari asked, having been busy going in and out with Aric, collecting objects to throw them into the blue. "We're having cake?"

"After dinner, and only a little bit."

"With ithe cream?"

You looked at Ben, who shrugged, giving in.

"Sure, why not? But a small piece of cake and a small ball of ice cream."

The kids leaped and squealed, their father picking Aric up and launching him into the pool, doing the same with Cari, himself jumping after them, three large bombs splashing everywhere, you approaching the border and observing the scene, all of them surfacing and piling up, children hanging from his strong, long arms and neck like little monkeys on a tree. Everyone laughing.

 

*

 

After dessert was finished, plates left on the coffee table, little ones snuggling with the adults and mutely waving their car toys in the air, a couch too big but never big enough for playing make-believe.

"Before I leave, I got a couple of things for you, jellybeans..."

Getting up, you moved to your temporary room, babies following after you, Ben trailing behind in curiosity. From behind your backpack you removed a large bag with a wrapped box and two smaller packages, sitting on the floor and letting them rip through the paper, discovering a kinetic sandcastle set, a copy of the _First Human Body Encyclopedia_ and two little containers with bubble solution and wands, one green, one purple. They excitedly thanked you. The last night you spent over the Organa-Solo's was calm and filled with frolic hollow spheres with iridescent surfaces drifting and popping on furniture and bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le vish:  
> Children's bathing bottoms: [Aric's](http://tinyurl.com/ybcn28v8) (bottom only) and [Cari's](http://tinyurl.com/y9cskggq)  
> Pool float: [bitten donut](http://tinyurl.com/ybsmqwpf)  
> Birthday gifts: [Kinetic Sandcastle Set](http://tinyurl.com/yd7mzhe4), [First Human Body Encyclopedia](http://tinyurl.com/yagvdr9l) and [bubbles](http://tinyurl.com/y7caclje)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	75. Malaise

Last three and a half weeks had been horrendous - panic attacks, anxiety, feeling out of sorts, out of place, out of mind. Ren missed you.

He needed you, as selfish as it was.

He craved your soothing presence, your soulful eyes, your sweet scent, your sweltering pussy, every day and every night, all the time. His commitment to work was faltering, he couldn't sleep with anyone else, he didn't want to, he wasn't able to, he _did_ try and couldn't go forth with it, night after night coming home from work, numb, unfulfilled, pulling one of your sweaters or panties or tops from your drawer in his dresser and touching it, feeling the fibers and texture, remembering the last time he saw you wearing them, bringing them close to his monarch nose and sniffing the mixture of laundry detergent and you and your lotion and your occasional perfume.

Nights spent beating his dick till it hurt, gripping your clothes more powerfully than he gripped his own life, smelling you like you were there, imagining you to be there, wanting you to be there. He would sleep with your garments by his side, on the pillow that was yours. One time he tried on a loose sweater you owned - fitted awkwardly small. He didn't care and wore it all day long in his apartment, naked man in a women's soft, sporty lounge sweater. Once he took it off, he noticed the strained stretching in some areas, yet he knew you would like that. If you'd ever show up again.

Kylo would wake up every morning wondering what you were doing. What shapes would your hair be composing, splayed out on the pillow, that sunrise? Were you sufficiently inspired to work the evening away and rise silently cranky or were you out of sorts like him, suicidal like him, missing that violent fucking, orgasms capable of splitting the skies, like him?

He was mourning, that huge, tough man, mourning his inability to go to you and tell you everything he had always wanted to tell you. That short, dangerous word so commonly thrown around attached to minor sentiments, minor predilections, things, food, situations; so meaningless and meaningful, concurrently. There was so much you gave him, but he didn't want to accept it. Kylo preferred to file it all under that dominance and submission agreement rather than relationship. Because "relationship" seemed so scary and he seemed so unworthy of it. Of you.

Though his focus was somewhere else, he wouldn't allow himself to skip any workday, he couldn't. If he stayed home and gave in to the desire of seclusion, that would be it.

He stopped by your studio one hot afternoon, spent close to an hour outside, making up his mind, gathering the courage, finally going up the three flights of stairs and slowly turning the copy of your keys he owned in the lock, closing the door behind him.

Stale silence.

Must have been twelve, twelve-something in the morning when he left, having waited, rehearsing everything again in his head, having eaten some of your snacks, lain on his side of the bed, jacking off.

But you didn't go home.

And he never got to tell you what he had decided to tell you that day.

Then he wondered, possessed, if you were staying over at Matt's place, if you had spent the afternoon with him, if you were screwing him.

 _"Of course,"_ he thought to himself as he glanced to your bathroom mirror, seeing his face-splitting keloid, _"I'm a fucking asshole, after all. A monster."_

You were perfect in his eyes. Even with your marked body, even with your self-distorted ideas, even you not believing in the concept in the first place - you were perfect. From the nights at the gym seven years ago to the afternoons when his fist wrapped around your neck and pulled your hips to meet his almost four weeks before that fruitless visit to your refuge.

Yet another painting. This time purples and reds and greens and blacks, lot of blacks, mostly blacks, shadow games where highlights screamed to be found in a sea of faded lines, obscurity taking over, deep tones of jewels you decorated yourself with, before his eyes and in his mind. But lots of black, mostly black, surrounding wild and raw precious stones that could not rival with your true beauty, angering the painter for the insufficiency of skill to make justice to your lips and your eyes, obsessing over speckles and details that no one would even notice were there, on you, in you.

He knew, he could see them. And they assuaged his spirit and riled up the blood in his veins, contrasting reactions with the exact same subject, same point of impact, shattering earthquakes and erupting volcanoes and hands playing with hair for him to let go and fall asleep.

In his bed.

Alone.

Again.

Was that it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief chapter that wasn't originally scheduled, but pushed through.
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	76. Cognizance

A bunch of screeching kids.

That's what it sounded like to Kylo, having parked his car next to the sidewalk in front of Ben's house, noticing Matt's ride, his mother's and far too many vehicles for his liking on the suburban street. 

Your car wasn't there. He wondered if Matt had given you a ride.

Random-person-number-one opened the front door to him, letting him in because he was the spitting image of the house's owner, introducing herself as the mom of one of the children attending, Kylo unable to focus or care enough to get the name, throwing his own at the female and walking away towards the kitchen and the backdoor. There was Desiree, sinking candles in the large, rectangular cake with pastel swirls on chocolate ganache, giving her a side hug, eyes scouting for Ben or any other familiar face in small clusters of strangers and strangers' miniatures, while simultaneously asking her where his brother was, huge paper bag made out of recyclable materials hanging in his grip.

As he stepped into the backyard, the only fully onyx cladded person at a children's party immediately spotted a short figure in earth toned garments, chatting away on one of the pool chairs - Leia had actually taken the weekend off to spend it with her grandchildren. He walked away before she had the chance to turn her head and catch the dark blotting shadow in her vision's periphery. 

"Uncle Ky!" screamed a crazed little girl, running towards the tree tall man, other children following her as well, surrounding him.

Far less kids than what they sounded like, he imagined his presence wouldn't be prolonged.

Crouching to her level, Kylo kissed his niece, who held tightly to his neck.

"I mithed you, Uncle Ky."

"I missed you too. Look at me," he asked Cari, "happy birthday. I've got you something, but help me find Aric and Dad first, okay?"

Rising back to his full height, the nephilim took her in his arms, a tiny army of Cari minions still following them as they scanned around for the residents.

"What ith it, Uncle Ky? Ith it a book?"

"You'll see. I think you'll like it."

Locating Ben and his boy exiting the house back into the crowd, the oldest triplet met them by the table where Desiree had set the baked dessert on, Aric bolting to embrace his uncle, who put his sister down and got on his knees, getting another tight snuggle and a peck, Cari joining once again.

"He hath a prethent for uth!" 

The twins held hands in expectation.

"No, I have two presents for you."

"Two?" the children animatedly asked.

"Two for each and one to share."

The twins turned to each other, ecstatic expressions as they vibrated in their spots, Ben approaching and gently patting his triplet over the top of his head as a greeting gesture. The little ones kneeled on the grass, expectant eyes following the boxes being placed ahead of them, ripping the wrapping paper in anxious giggles, uncovering a sanded, wooden chest, aged in a somber stain filled with plastic golden coins, pearl necklaces and gemstones first, followed by two naval tricorns in different colors and a matching pair of coal-colored long and coarse imitation beards parted in half, disparate tones of the bands that enveloped each pigtail, their buddies getting closer to the boxes and offering comments.

Thanking their uncle, they went on their merry way to play with their friends, both adult men grabbing the remnants of torn colorful paper off the ground.

"How's things?" the busy parent initiated.

"Well. You?"

"Can't complain."

He loomed in the corner as everyone gathered around the celebratory dessert and chanted the mandatory song, observing grandma seemingly into it while both munchkins smiled at everyone, captivated by a state of illusory hover, high on young adrenaline by proxy, too little to understand the weight of days and years and existence, still happily unaware of what it entitled. Hopefully, Kylo thought, they'll forever stay imprisoned of that oblivious bliss.

A picture of normal, that's what he saw. And while understanding it, he didn't believe in it. Not necessarily its whole context or characters, but the act in itself - the theater of celebrations, the gatherings of strangers and the sharing of moments with them. All imposed, all in tradition by society's standards. 

Robbed from his pensiveness by the sudden explosive clamor of claps and cheers, he exchanged looks with Leia. Her tired, wise eyes appeared to display regret, on her lips a smile showing as a reaction to the event, like two stories happening at the same time and he held them, possibly the longest he has allowed himself to gaze upon his mother for the last decade, reminding her of her own father, of her late husband and of none of them: her son was his own person, making his own mistakes, deciding upon his own life, achieving his own goals. Or none of this. She didn't know him. He wouldn't let her.

In the small crowd, Matt caught a glimpse of it, getting wrapped in his oldest triplet's hard stare, the largest of the humans slipping into the house, away from everyone, considering his imminent retreat, yet not wanting to simply vanish without spending an extra look on his nephew and niece.

After managing to catch Ben's scattered attention and hugging his goodbyes to the little ones by their initiative, he got in his Charger and sat in it, imagining how he would drive home and you would be there, waiting, wanting to talk or fuck or lounge or even all three, in no particular order.

When he opened the heavy door to his apartment, he did not turn the lights on, but called your name. He took a spot on his sectional couch, legs folded up onto himself, facing the window, time going by slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visuals:  
> Pirate chest: [here](http://tinyurl.com/ycm3b5mk)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)  
> Any HCs related to Ben's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jov6ced)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	77. Mooring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the lateness and brevity. I'm still traveling and everything that could've gone wrong yesterday, did go wrong.

The chain had been locked on your door for two weeks.

Your phone off.

You heard the noises from outside, from the neighbors, from the kitchen clock and you wished you could mute them all, cringing often to the augmented sonority echoing in your head and this sharp, suffocating pain in your chest that just wouldn't leave you.

You had thrown yourself to work, no distractions, not much food, not much rest. Almost as usual, to be honest. 

Walking around your loft when your consciousness wanted to snap, skipping and jumping and spinning and throwing your limbs around when you felt too agitated, about to explode. You talked to yourself, searched among words for your writing, had apparent monologues, laughed and cried. 

You thought about a guy you were in love with in your senior year of high school, how he loved you and how his fears crippled him and destroyed any possibility of being together. But he did love you, on the phone. And he cried when he let you go, almost a year after graduation. You had tried to find him, many years ago. He had gotten married and had a babygirl. You were happy for him. And you cried because it would never happen to you. No one would overcome something for you.

You weren't worth it.

You intimidated people and the ones who saw past that only wanted to use you and that's what you were good for - provide for others. Whatever they needed.

Until you isolated yourself. Then you were only being used by and provided to one. You allowed it, wanted it. But then even that stopped.

It wasn't enough, because you weren't enough. You would never be.

Accepted fact.

A rare knock on the door startled you, as per usual, body entering that fight or flight state you hated, heartbeat pounding on your chest and throat and head. Still, you got up, tiptoed to the entrance and through the peephole you saw Kylo.

Being honest with yourself, you were taken aback - he had uncharacteristically knocked before even trying to open the hatch to your bunker. Hell, he was _there_ , _at your door_ , after more than a month of radio silence, absolutely no communication between the both of you, no texts nor emails, no visits, no smoking signals, zero, _nada_. Undoing your locks, you became conscious of yourself: tangled hair, undereye circles as deep as the rings of the Underworld, breath definitely not minty fresh, raggedy black top and panties riding up your butt crack, which you attempted to straighten up as you unsealed the entrance and saw him, unusually wearing a tank, showing the colorful art all over the muscled arms, sweats hanging from his hips, all in mismatched shades of black, hair half-up, looking perfect even when not his best.

Fuck.

You stared at each other.

Then you moved from the entryway and walked further into your studio, titan taking two more seconds at the door prior to stepping in and closing it behind himself.

Wasn't fair, how you couldn't keep that icy rush from within your chest to flourish upwards and make goosebumps diffuse throughout all of your dermis from looking at him, even just thinking about him, like ancient voodoo whispered into your ear in your sleep, forever impelling your subconscious. You hated that he could see it, the power he had over you displaying as a flashy billboard on 5th Avenue, limbs covered in tiny bumps, nipples hard as nails. Wasn't fair.

Ren didn't take off his shoes.

Instead, he took three, maybe four steps towards you, your nervous brain and eyes following his feet but unable to focus. You somewhat did notice the slumping of his back and, to a certain extent, of his knees too, before you could register his face coming down at your level, salmon-toned plump lips pressing against your chapped ones.

Took you a few seconds to breathe in, the warmth of the air exiting his nose sweeping along the right corner of your mouth, its tip jammed on your cheek, feeling the slightly colder metal of his septum piercing with that innocent kiss. 

He pulled back, your upper lips still touching, your bottom ones still united, breathing each others oxygen and carbon dioxide in quickened, shallow breaths, the very point of his wet tongue meeting up with yours, reaching for yours, bodies not touching. Both pairs of lips closed in another oscule, following another one and another one, eyes closed, his massive hands encompassing your face, powerful limbs circling your back and waist, pulling you closer and upwards when your fingers pulled on the fabric of his sleeveless shirt, his advances becoming hungrier after a muffled whine transferred from your throat to his mouth, long, pierced muscle entering you, tasting of spit, stars and sadness, fervent, ferocious, familiar, home.

 _Finally_.

It was home.

 _He_ was home.

Ren carried you to bed, where he set you, undressing his loose clothes and removing his shoes, your own top coming off, underwear too, your features tensing in a cry right before a soft sound left you and one tear leapt from your dextral eye down to your thigh, another one following down your cheek on the same side, opposite one accompanying. The both of you laid together, simply kissing, gently, slowly, roughly, wetly, quickly, drooling into each other's mouths, slurping, biting, sucking, licking, blowing, flicking, moans and sighs in two tones, enough to cover for the past seven years, yet not enough to even start.

Kylo got hard, multiple times, leaking on your stomach, however, he never made a single attempt at penetration. 

His kisses lasted hours, pausing to scan you, those insatiable, impassioned and intense heterochromic lamps in hazel shades looking far too deep into the windows of your soul as he always did... but that time it was different. And you couldn't even tell how nor why. It just was. The behemoth was vulnerable, open, and taking you with him, in him.

The sun went in search of the moon and she rose asking for him, Ren's arms around you, Roman nose brushing against your scalp in the jungle of your locks, your fingernails delicately scratching aleatory patterns on his neck, underneath his collar bone and over his pectorals, rounding the small, pale nipple on his left side, not a word spoken.

Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	78. Adumbration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the lack of chapter last Thursday, but I felt I didn't have anything inside of me. Now I'm back in my cave and all is stable.

The sun had risen and, while it didn't hit you directly, it came through his room and lit it up, allowing him to clearly discern your features, awaken since four in the morning, incapable to go back to sleep. You felt him rise from the bed, heard him trying to be quiet while urinating, undoubtedly tired and groggy himself, not thinking of the other bathrooms he had. You then felt him leaving the room and fell into a deep coma, sensing the leviathan back on the mattress and coming to yourself when his nostrils' exhales hit the palm of your hand. Slowly, Kylo inched his face into it, scrunching his visage when your fingertips touched his eyelids, attempting to block you from injuring him in case you jerked scared. Instead, you spread your digits outwards and relaxed them onto the three dimensional blueprint of his semblance. You couldn't tell if he was smelling your hand or being his exhausted, cuddly self. Nuzzling your paw, he slid his dorsal nasal segment along your fingers and bit down on your fifth metacarpal hard, holding the skin and flesh of the palmar area in between his teeth, until your free hand abandoned its resting spot next to your elbow and hooked two digits inside his mouth, pulling his cheek away and up as he relented on the mauling, like a deranged, yet dozy dog. Ren reposed his bedhead on the mattress, under the sheets, rubbed his entire face on your stomach and ribs. And there he remained, calming and causing you to snooze off again, until you sensed one of his finger pads repeatedly digging in your belly button.

"Mmmno! Don'doodat! Imma be sick..." your mouth peeled open from sleep, hoping to stop the inevitably approaching nauseating sensation you always got after messing with your navel for too long.

He stopped, surrounding your umbilical cord vestige with his slightly chapped plush lips as he kissed it once, letting them then rest on it, the air expelled against your skin pleasingly tickling you.

Slithering upwards on the bed, he resurfaced from the oppression of the single sheet covering your calescent bodies and pushed your disheveled tresses off your face as you smiled, fatigued eyes still prostrated, and wrapped his vigorous arm around you, snaking his right thigh in between both of yours and successfully guiding the left one over his hip.

"Look at me..."

Struggling with heavy torpidity, the comatose slumber and the temperature felt early in the city and the furnace of a man weaved into you, at last you mustered the strength and will to open your eyes with the Master's murmured request.

Through those slanted slits, Kylo gazed at you - squinty-eyed, inward cursing, living regret, all of which evaporated like cold condensation when warmed at the sight of some strands loose from the floppy bun he wore to bed, the lines on the countenance of the man who was pushing thirty-one leveled. For a moment, and like many other times, you wondered if other people obsessed over their significant other's beauty marks and pores. And not in an aesthetic nor health way, but something that drew you in and drown you every single time and you couldn't stop it and you didn't want to stop it.

Eyes.

Neither of you could exactly explain how your eyes pulled each other so closely. You both knew, however, that it had been what had brought you together in the first place, when your lines of sight crossed at the gym and somehow, without knowing each other, you recognized one another.

The first _cutis anserina_ , rush of blood, the increased activity of the sympathetic nervous system. Sexual attraction and soul awareness.

As much as you didn't believe in past lives, in religion, in whatever oddity people have come up with through the ages to try and explain what they cannot comprehend... there was an amalgam of science and spiritual that seemed to be far more than what the human mind could assimilate and what you and Ren felt was part of it. You knew enough words and colors and sounds and flavors and smells and feelings to put into it, to describe it, but it all seemed too little, too insignificant, too constricting, too real to make it justice.

He kissed you, warm tongue and morning breath and that massive dextral paw kneading your thigh and your ass, Kylo's solid frame weighing on you, nevertheless, he still would not enter you.

A complete week had gone by and he had not fucked you once, always bringing your mouths together, always rubbing you up and down, yet never penetrating you, not even wanting you to help him get off, nor assisting you, as straightforward and graphic as you got.

It was different.

And he was assessing, though he wanted to take you so badly. _That_ hadn't changed at all.

A couple of days more, not a full week into August that year, and he woke you up in your Japanese-style bed, both having napped in the early afternoon, hot, humid New York Summer causing you to become too sluggish and easily giving in to sloth. The swelteringly heat of Ren's oscules brought you back to unwanted consciousness, but the hankering for his monstrous dick would be quenched at last, the poking and probing of the glans into the softness of your pussy making you wetter despite the strain to your muscles.

He breathed and gasped by your head as you forced yourself not to mewl, unsure about the reason, Kylo not lasting more than two minutes and exploding inside of you, thick digits replacing his shaft in the sloshing canal once he gathered himself and gently withdrew the impressive organ then beginning to subside its rigidity, dextral arm under your neck and pulling you tightly into his kiss, your hands divided between feverishly assaulting your nub and attempting to grip his unadorned extensors, the vibration of caged moans passing from you to him and back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Yeah. Hi.
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	79. Wonted

"If I had a dick I would really, really want to tittyfuck you..." Ren rested under you, observing with scrutinizing, color-swirling eyes, entertaining your silliness with silence. He snorted, placid. "Would you let me?" The only noise was the approaching storm in the background, almost amplifying the sky above your house, like the presence of a god was being acknowledged.

A twitch of a brow and a faint scowl from his lips was all you got.

In return, you stared straight into his eyes.

"You act so cold. But your chest houses the entire Universe..." Your right hand smoothed over the expanse of it, back and forth, slowly, nails then raking along, the only give away was his nostrils slightly flaring, eyes locked on yours, "I mean... look at these," you palmed the breadth of his thorax, groping.

Covering the moles on his neck with your mouth, you traced his collarbone down to his pecs, lips dragging across, hot breath on brisk skin, his heartbeat thrumming like a petrifying monster in a wall. You sucked his flesh until you reached a petite pink peak, encompassing it with the wet warmth of your cavity, tongue teasing, switching to the opposite one and offering the same attention. He observed your generosity, the emphatic wrinkles under his chin that you adored forming. Then a long, powerful arm stretched behind you and groped the left side of your bottom, hard, fingertips skimming along the crevice, feeling for your juices, bringing them up to your tightest hole, prodding.

Meanwhile, you kept laving at his muscles.

Kylo then impelled you forward.

"Straddle me." Moving from his side, you brought a leg over his lap, when two massive hands lugged you up his body to sit on his chest. He spread your folds open and flushed against him, repositioning your arms behind you, catching two wrists in his loose, yet dominant grip.

Your hips begun rotating, lips and clit pressed on his chest, slick starting to coat the small spot under you. He pulled his pectorals from under your thighs towards the center, creating a plusher bed for your cunt to drag on and watched, fascinated.

"Still want a dick? I have a dick for you after... " One of his hands withdrew from your wrists confining them to the other one alone, making way to your breasts, shaking, squeezing, smacking and stretching them till they bruised and stung. Feeling you almost knocking the air out of his lungs, riding his chest close to climax, he captured your hips and stilled them above his body, robbing you of orgasm, desperate hands seizing your throbbing nub and rubbing it, Ren dropping you back on him to yank your forearms away from you, suddenly chafing on him again, driving Hulk insanely mad for your lack of control, toppling over you, growling and pushing both of his knees atop your folded legs, wide open, huge paws spreading your limbs above your head.

Kylo shook his head, leveling his breathing.

"You fucking bitch. Did you fucking hear me say you could cum? Did you?" You were still recovering from the mess that had happened. "Answer me!"

"N-no, Master Ren."

"'N-no, Master Ren'...", he jeered, "So why were you about to cum?" He rested his balls over your trembling entrance.

"Because it felt too good, Master Ren. I am sorry, sir."

"'Felt too good', well that is nice. Now I'll have to rob you again, impetuous pet."

"Yes, Master Ren."

He finally released your sore legs from under his own and brought your arms down, rolling back to have you mount his lap once again, wrists bound behind your back anew.

"Lift." You strained on your knees as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit and sunk in you, core descending on him, filled to the brim. His hands made you lean forth, faces so close you could taste his breath. "Now I am going to pound this cunt and you're going to take it. Quietly, like the good slut you are." The bass of his voice made you shiver.

And so he started, no warm-up, directly into mind-numbing, body-quaking, flash-speed pounding. A wail erupted from your lips before you could press and bite on them, the ominous, relentless deity seizing your throat with one of his overwhelmingly enormous fists.

"What. Did. I. Say. Bitch?" Hissing behind grating teeth, fist tightening a tick. "Not a fuck-ing sssound!"

The gargantuan male released your neck and resumed his grasp on your forearms so you had no way of steadying yourself, having to rely on the giant, still hovering above his torso. The force of his thrusts was so excruciating, your walls were starting to go numb, the noise of his creamy skin snapping on yours and the sight of his clenched teeth, mouth salivating, your only form of delectation.

But you needed this, you so needed this. You loved being used by him, toyed with, have him match your body to your mind. And he loved having the power you allowed him to have, to be so physically wanted, craved. Still, he couldn't understand how you would let an unworthy monster do that to you...

Suddenly emptying you, he shoved you on your rear as he stooped on the bed, pushing your thighs apart and up with his own, working his long, thick member with your viscid fluid, wet noises filling the room.

"Rub your clit."

He drooled on your pussy before commanding you to handle it faster, his right hand beating his ferocious cock hurriedly, breath shallow. Seeing as you were almost climaxing, he pried your hand away and brawny legs bestrode your waist. He pumped one, two more times before spurting the sizzling sour seed onto your face and tits, barely any making it into your mouth, instead covering cheek, neck and breasts. Kylo repeatedly pinched and pulled on his cock, shuddering, your hands lightly and aimlessly sketching on his ass.

Bending over you, he kissed your complexion where it was free of semen, weeding back to look at his production. Your fingers and nails trailed his muscles, his deltoids, triceps, biceps, extensors, abs, back to his pectorals. And squished them in your smaller hands, then together, languidly.

Ooonne.

Tttwoo.

Thhhree.

You smiled up at him, he smirked down on you.

Quiet.

Feeling his jizz cooling on your skin, you reached for the already soiled hand towel on the floor, cleaning yourself.

Ren observed, having lowered his torso to your left, head on his palm, hips still on yours.

"I-..."

You turned in his direction.

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

His almond hooded eyes descended to nowhere in particular on the sheets under your bodies. You reassured him.

"You know you can tell me anything, whatever you want and need..."

Brows spasmed, knitting for a split second while he nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be soon coming to an end, somewhere along September. I've already started writing the second installment but I might take a little "posting" break, cause it's just too much for me. I'm so thankful for all you guys who take the needed 10 minutes out of your life to read every bullshit chapter and I appreciate every single one of you, whether you come forth and leave a comment or not, that's not imperative nor required, naturally.  
> I am sure the last chapter won't be for everyone and the follow up installment will have many of those who read this dropping it and that is very much okay. I also don't eat what I don't like. This was a far better round than I expected and hopefully I'll do something physical with this "story" in the somewhat near future. Who knows? Thank you so much, guys. You rock. 
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	80. Quiddity

A plastic basket was filling up, the dryer's buzzer having gone off almost fifteen minutes prior to that moment, you throwing all clothes out of the machine and into the receptacle, majority of them - thank goodness! - not needing to see the iron, but a couple of tougher denim jeans as well as a loose flannel shirt required it. Why were you washing that shirt you owned when you were thirteen and dressed like a rapper? How did it survive all those years? Why did you even hold on to it? You could do something with it... Or wear it at home... Turning the pant legs of both pairs of jeans outside in and the quizzical shirt's sleeves too, you roughly tucked and set them atop the ironing board for later, picking up the deep container and marching to your pine-hued polyester loveseat, where you dumped its contains and sat down with crossed legs under yourself to fold what needed to be fold.

On the Prussian blue-toned couch was a quiet giant, lazily but purposefully pulling on his dick. You wondered for a moment if he would've been as comfortable, even after all those years, if he didn't know you were just like him - hypersexuals, society would name you, for it couldn't be "normal" to have such a high, and sometimes uncontrollable, sex drive. As if "normal" meant "best", "adequate" "acceptable". Like they had any authority to classify who is human and who is lesser. Who the fuck would want to be "normal" anyway?

So there was Kylo - lying with his broad shoulders and thick curls over a small pile of your pillows, closed hooded eyes at times opening to meet you, his underwear inside out on the floor between sofa and industrial coffee table, one large hand wrapped around a darkened, leaking glans, while the other one felt the base and pulled on the tightened sac. You stared at him, not realizing you had a saddened expression as you let your head and body rest on your arms atop the pleasantly warm, dry clothes, watching him, wondering what had triggered it then, depressive self-loathe, anxious thoughts, exhibitionist power. Or was it just because? It was mostly just because. No matter the reason or with no cognitive reason at all, that was who he was and who you were.

Reaching the brink of the precipice, his upper right limb parted from the genitalia in a hasty motion targeted at you, who dragged off the stack of garments and set on your knees after Kylo swung his outer leg off the seat and steadied his foot on the ground, licking your lips and enclosing the reddened smooth head, pungent spurts of semen being swallowed as they were expelled by the squirming, groaning man exhilarated by the snugness and wetness of your cavity.

Temperature had dropped quite a few levels since the previous day, thunderstorms filling the skies and your ears intermittently from around three thirty in the morning, trusting matte black wall clock saying it was then eleven oh one, your smaller frame perched up on the cement countertop, his herculean one leaning against it next to you, both killing time while waiting for the cranberry balsamic chicken to roast, tanginess which would go well with former dinner leftovers of equally roasted sweet potatoes and Brussels sprouts, Fall food for August cravings.

"Do you remember what I looked like without the scar?" Kylo brought up, all-powerful arms steadying his weight propped on the counter.

"I do."

"I don't."

It had been almost five full years since the accident that permanently changed his looks and deepened both anger and regret within the already melancholic insurrectionist.

Your hand attempted to wrap around his right wrist, gently tugging it in your direction as an indication of action, which compelled the Goliath to turn and stand in between your legs.

"It's not that hard to visualize you without it... But... why would I do that? It's part of you," trailing along the keloid from jaw to forehead, you felt the rigidity, the plumpness and tiny fissures under your pads, caressing his protuberant, dissimilar ears with your thumbs as the remaining digits massaged his scalp under the onyx mane.

"Did it ever gross you out while it was healing? Or... this one," Kylo's eyes accompanied his paw as it nonchalantly pointed to the massive splatter-like fibrous tissue on the left side of the sharply shaped abdomen, then returning to match its pair on their spot over your thighs.

"Never," you settled your fanned out hand covering part of the largest of the cicatrix, "I worried about... how it would make you feel. And about possibly hurting you and I wanted to make it better for you, whatever that involved... But I realized that there wasn't much I could actually do to relieve any pain you had..."

He knew you weren't merely talking about physical pain. That year had had ancillary hardships on top of the accustomed misery that prevailed in him - he spent months in the hospital, his father was dead and after being discharged, Kylo locked himself at home and refused to see anyone for more than half a year, even you.

The expression he had, gazing down at you with softly lowered eyelids, saturnine suffering of his mopey mouth, screaming his apologies inside, silently abating in front of you with scintillating tears filling the compound of warm tones in his eyes, was both stunning and sentimental. Ren tilted over you, colossal shade obscuring your presence as his profile buried in the crook of your neck, expelled air and saline droplets deposited on your supraclavicular fossa, the sorrowful male descending along your chest and nesting against your midsection, body heavily bent in half, upper extremities clutching you tightly. Your fingers combed through the healthy coal-colored waves, love, weather and food preparation, all rising his innate heat, yours as well, culminating in lustrous tresses and oleaginous skin, the timer you had set on your phone for the oven going off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The viz:  
> Kitchen wall clock (mentioned so many times but don't think I've ever showed it) - [here](http://tinyurl.com/y8nj8g6f)  
> Food: [cranberry balsamic chicken roast](http://tinyurl.com/ydddos9r) and [roasted sweet potato and Brussels sprouts](http://tinyurl.com/ybzovfl7)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	81. Appurtenances

The lightening brightened up your otherwise darkened studio, twelve fourteen in the morning of a hot night, Kylo switching from one app to the next one on his phone, while you wrote on yours. When you yawned, eyes shutting tightly from the damaging luminosity of your small screen, you decided without a thought that it was enough for the day, backed away from your digital notebook, automatically saving the file, doing the rounds through email and messaging applications insistent on not sending you important notifications, reading a text from Matt asking if you would like to have lunch the following week, to which you gave a _blasé_ yet appropriate answer. Then:

" _Cool out here or there?_ "

You weren't exactly expecting the reply to arrive so quickly, you never were. Besides, you also weren't sure of how to proceed with that relationship. Was it ruined? Were you further ruining it? Matt was such a good friend and then you slept with him. He had been very aware it wouldn't mean you two were dating, both were conscious and consenting adults, but... you felt miserable by not loving him the way he loved you, not loving him the way he needed and deserved. 

Blinking those worries to the back burner, you focused on your answer:

" _Here, please? Maybe we can do Thai?_ "

" _Of course cant wait!_ "

Locking your device, you plugged your charger in and put the mobile down on the low bedside table, the giant on your bed finally touching your ass, not wanting to interrupt you before you finished. Kylo swayed from his back to his side, huge left leg going over you as you remained in your position with your stomach to the mattress.

"Would you come with me to Phoenix next Sunday?"

You unblocked your head, then covered by your upper limbs as you hit the pillow.

"That's a bit of a short notice," you mumbled.

"I know, I'm sorry." 

You hadn't spent more than six hours apart since you first kissed, seventeen days before, and that was due to his job.

"How long are you going for?"

"Four days. Three workshop days at this dojo and a leisure day they threw in."

"Hm."

Nuzzling into your hair, the tip of his nose swept circles on your scalp before his lips approached your right ear, warm breath from his whisper making your blood rush.

"The hotel is nice... Big bed... Big tub... Nice view... You don't have to leave the room if you don't want to... You can work and we can fuck, just like here..." 

Sticking his tongue out, Ren licked your ear lobe before pulling it into his mouth and gently biting it, your skin tightening, covered in goosebumps.

"It's so soon..."

"I'm sorry. But I don' wanna go alone," his forehead leaned on the side of your skull, "I don' wanna go at all..."

Forcing your body to turn towards Kylo under his partial weight, you gazed into his discouraged expression, resembling a pouty little boy.

"Ren, you shouldn't stop doing the things you like, outside."

"Why not? You did..."

"But I've actually put a lot of effort to go and do stuff this year. And it's, well, not easier, but I guess it helps when I feel like I'm doing it for the twins or for you... You know, for someone who deserves-"

"Not for yourself?" he intervened.

"Uhm... Yeah, also. Because I do love spending time with those kids and with you."

"And my brother."

"And your brother is my dear friend."

You both muted, still staring at each other's eyes. 

"Please come. I don't want to be away from you..." His voice became a murmur, like he was telling you a secret. 

You tried to control the smile that sprouted on your face, for you could see he was having a hard time, clearing his face from the long licorice layers of his hair and pulling him to rub your noses together.

"We are eventually going to be apart and it's okay, because we'll come back to this, right? But you have obligations that you actually enjoy... And we both like and need time alone, so you there will come a time when we're away from each other. But then we'll get back together. Because I need you," you spoke softly, leveled, as he nodded.

"I need you too."

Your lips met his, innocent kisses all over your semblances like a light Spring drizzle.

"I'll go with you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse the brevity, this wasn't the chapter I had planned to come out today, but I started writing it before bed last night and it made sense to come into this part of the timeline. -shrugs-
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	82. Ingeminate - Part I

You landed in the State of Arizona at eleven fifty-five p.m., one day earlier than what was previously scheduled, as Sundays were always a bitch to find reasonable departure times, the cab ride from Phoenix Sky Harbor to the hotel only twenty-one minutes on a hot, lazy night.

The property was verdant and beautifully manicured, a somber lobby with two-story columns and high ceilings greeted the guests, a fully glassed wall displaying the pool and patio, a mixture of both cool and warm tones in bright and pastel shades _à la_ turn of the century.

"You tired?" he asked as you waited for the elevator with your carry-ons, Kylo also having checked-in luggage solely due to the bulking size of his robes and _kendōgu_ , both his _shinai_ and _bokutō_ wrapped together across his back.

"A little. Couldn't sleep last night."

He knew you dreaded plane trips - not because of the actual flight, but the amount of people in any and all airports and the noise they produced. The crazy short layovers. Not to mention the back-kicking passengers, the chatty, the peeping and the smelly ones. And every time there was a child under five screaming out their lungs, you would empathize, feeling the same inside.

The leviathan smoothed your hair back with his massive paw and pressed with throbbing intensity on the sides of your neck with his fingertips, feeling your tension.

"You can rest as soon as we get to the room."

"No," your heavy head bobbed to your right and rolled to the opposite flank towards him, thick door splitting open before you, steps taken as the two of you dragged your bags past it, "if you're not too tired, maybe we could order something? I'm a little hungry..."

"Of course," he pressed on the button to your assigned floor, door holding open to a buff, brown-haired guy in his early twenties, who stood by your side, Ren's left hand touching your arm of the same side when he felt you squeeze and shrink onto him.

The stranger exited one floor below yours and conveyed a good night, to which you both replied with equal wishes, automatically.

You had been in nice hotels with Kylo throughout the five years you've been intimate with each other, as well as pretty tawdry ones by the side of the road, but your jaw dropped a little over the mid-century, sober-styled furnished suite. Immediately, feelings of unworthiness started floating in your head. Abandoning your bags, you walked to the windows, the view including the pool and courtyard, as well as a golf course you'd only be able to see in daylight, delineated by a multitude of lush trees. You lingered there, just watching the lights by the manmade lagoon.

"Like it?" the towering frame flushed against your smaller one, lowering his head as he spoke into your hair.

"Did they put you in this room?"

"I asked them if an upgrade was possible, since I wasn't traveling alone anymore. And I know you might want to stay in..."

"They're paying for this?"

"Mhm.

"It's very nice."

By far the best room he had been while being a guest _kenshi_ in conventions, tournaments and workshops, however, not the best he ever had.

"Wanna check the menu?" Kylo kissed your neck as you remained standing, pulling your loose V-neck knit over your head and undoing the tiny clasp of the _bralette_ with his huge hands, removing the straps down your arms.

 

*

 

He didn't say it, but by the second day, he was beaten. Not so much physically, though the subsequent different age bracket classes totaled around nine hours a day, with a one hour break for lunch, but the non-stop interaction during that schedule, the questions, the noise, everything, was getting to him. Kylo did have dinner with them the first night, wanting to both show his appreciation and getting to know some of his more promising temporary students as well as some of the little ones' parents, but on the following evening he simply returned to base, shower already taken on location, falling face down on the king size mattress next to you and sighing into the spongy surface.

Your fingertips moved the still damp tresses from his neck to the side, his features revealing to you as he turned his head your way.

"Are you hungry?" you whispered.

He nodded.

"What do you want to eat?"

"After," the single word reply was mumbled, his body being directed towards you, limbs pulling you tightly, spine curving onto itself to bury his semblance among your breasts.

You allowed for Ren to stay hidden for a few minutes, but spoke before he would fall asleep, moving out of his grasp and hearing his whiny reaction to the gesture.

"Let me do something for you..." you kissed his right eyebrow as he lifted his head to follow you. "Take off your clothes and lay flat for me."

Dragging himself to assume a kneeling position on the bed, he pulled the thin graphite-hued shirt off and lowered both Davy's gray Puma sweatpants with jet black contrast side panels and the Saxx kinetic long leg boxers of the same color scheme, lying back on his stomach while you tugged the items off his great legs, throwing them onto the swiveling armchair in an offensive shade of a marriage between apple green and harvest gold and stretching yourself to get the refined coconut oil spray from the table on your side.

Drizzling the moisturizer onto the skin of his back, you spread it evenly before starting to work each muscle set separately. Flowing from top to bottom, your pads and palms rubbed vigorously and glided along his _trapezius_ , from the rear of his neck to the middle of his back, including his broad _deltoids_ and lowering to the massive _latissimus dorsi_ , finishing over his _gluteal_  soft tissues, dermis and tiny percentage of fat moving with your digits in waves, prostrated giant exhaling with every intense motion, groaning in spikes of pain. By the end, the oil had been partially soaked by his skin and your own, his back and upper limbs were covered in a pressure-caused flush, heat emanating from it.

You smooched his scarred cheek and he opened his eyes.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure. Go rinse while I order food."

Rising from the spacious and snug bed, Kylo captured you in his ornamented arms, shielding you and renewing himself, swallowing your breath and your taste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, writing chapters that weren't supposed to be blooming now! I thought I was done, but apparently I was wrong.
> 
> Let's learn languages:  
> Kendōgu - Kendō equipment or armor  
> Shinai - training sword made out of bamboo  
> Bokutō (think I already provided the meaning on an early chapter, however) - training sword made out of wood  
> Kenshi - swordsman 
> 
> The visuals for this chapter:  
> Ren's gear and weapons (already showed his uniform on Chapter 26 and his bokutō on Chapter 56): [shinai](http://tinyurl.com/y9ayaeg3), [kendōgu](http://tinyurl.com/y7q8kybm) (with garments)  
> Reader's clothes: [thin knit](http://tinyurl.com/ycamgdou) and [bralette](http://tinyurl.com/ya27f4w9)  
> Ren's cothes: [t-shirt](http://tinyurl.com/ydyrzook) (already worn in 2 other chapters), [Puma sweats](http://tinyurl.com/ycxaafa6) and [Saxx underwear](http://tinyurl.com/ycxds5ra)  
> Coconut oil spray: [here](http://tinyurl.com/ycedx68a) (I'm a sucker for coconut, can't you tell by now?)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	83. Ingeminate - Part II

You were both invariably naked, curled up in a fetal position and facing each other, temples directly on the mattress, right underneath where the splendidly soft and pliable pillows rested, gazing at each other without words. It was early morning, you'd been crying because of your quotidian heartbreaks, the neverending introspection, arbitrary, infective thoughts in your brain, the forevermore wretchedness in your chest, who knew what else? Everything. The drop of a pin or the simple fact that you were awaken could be too much. And it hurt in ways words couldn't veraciously explain. Good thing was you didn't have to, he knew. So sobs and silences and speeches - they were all equally natural, comfortable. Ren never tried too hard, asking you to tell him what you needed - he would read you, feel you, and for the vast majority of the times, he was spot on: embracing you under blankets when you needed, feeding you when that helped, bathing you when water was all that could pacify you, fucking you when you had to feel it all or nothing or balance what was in your mind with what happened with your body. And all of this you did for him too.

Your nose was abhorrently clogged, even after fully saturating two double-ply tissues of a brand you always carried, with the noisiest of the blows. Your eyelids wet up to your eyebrows and down your cheeks, though all the tears had trailed across your nose and up your forehead when not landing on the sheets beneath you. Exhausted and bloated. And he stared back at you, _corrugator supercilii_ tense, knee caps touching your shins.

Kylo's left hand advanced towards you under the ivory cotton duvet, towing your right hand from covering your mouth and nose and slotting it into his own mouth, softly pressing on it, alternating between teeth and lip pressure, same hand then wiping whatever remaining slimy snot and shiny, salty spots, repeatedly cleaning his extremity on skin, fabric and tongue, fingertips caressing your features so gently, it almost didn't seem like a single paw of his could completely cover the entirety of your face. But it could.

"I wanna go with you."

Both having been up for hours, those were the first words you spoke. That was the last convention day for the _Sensei_ and he only had one class and one demonstration scheduled towards the middle of the afternoon, having been invited to dinner after the event. The following day would be free of obligations.

He smiled softly, removing your hand from his cavity.

"Been a while since you last saw me teaching. Or performing." His eyebrows spasmed, "I think I'm nervous now..."

"I won't go then, I don't wan-"

"No, no, no! I want you to come! Gives me a chance to show you how tough I can be," he bantered, flexing and pecking his colorful bicep, while you grinned and closed your eyes.

"Ben?" Kylo growled angrily to you, making your noses meet and waiting for your eyes to open once again. "I didn't know you could be that full of yourself too..."

"I have my moments."

"Not really," was whispered into his mouth, small simper twitching on him. "But you don't have to show me how tough and strong you are. I know." Kiss. "I have to put up with all your... meat and might while you're breaking my back every day."

Kiss.

"Wanna be reminded of it?"

Kiss.

"Mhm." The answer came through your nose instead of your mouth, occupied by two tongues, muscle heavy frame sliding over yours, lower limbs spreading for him and a large hand pinning your right thigh down, pelvis rubbing against your entrance as he nipped and licked your skin from lips to breasts, shaft hardening right by your holes.

Ren got you wetter and looked at you through low lids, pushing slowly into the flesh he adored.

 

*

 

You both passed out before eleven that evening, strength barely there to remove your makeup before falling in bed, soiled baby wipes folded over themselves three times deposited atop their plastic packaging on the nightstand, earrings grouped in a tiny pile, rings, chapstick, moisturizer.

  
It was still dark when you awoke and stirred, ear shell hurting immensely from the poor position you had adopted, nudging the comforter down your back and wrapping your legs on the outside, Kylo of the raven locks completely uncovered and prompted into alertness.

"'S so hot!" you grumbled.

"Hm!"

"Every time!"

"I know!" he moaned as well, fumbling when gathering his hair up along the pillow and yanking the bedding away from you, throwing it on the floor, a sulfuric scent emerging.

"'T's wrong wit' you? Now deal wit' it."

He couldn't care less.

"Just faaart!" he yelled lightheartedly, striking whatever buttcheek without looking.

Jumping out of bed, the sweaty overlord neared the ample window and observed the swimming area from above, dim lights surrounding the premises still on, no guests or workers around. Kylo reached your small suitcase with a couple of strides, shifting some things around.

"You brought a bikini, right?" Turning and sitting up in bed, you answered affirmatively and continued watching the man digging through black clothes and going by texture to find your swimwear. Unnecessary, because even in the middle of the darkened room the bright colored, perforated pattern two piece was quite distinguishable. "Never saw this one before..."

"It's new. I put a few pounds up and didn't-"

"Nonsense, put it on."

Bladders emptied and beach outfits on, you were the only sign of life apart from the front desk, stepping outside to the patio and walking past large seating areas, with wooden armchairs and leathered ottomans, cushiony chaises all around the pool, heated till the morning. You dipped your toes to test the temperature, while the male simply dove in, surfacing after a quarter of a minute, barely disturbing the waving liquid, fingertips raking his tresses back. Perched on the border with submerged legs, you contemplated as Ren leisurely swam towards you, head peeking out of the water like an approaching alligator, huge hands gripping your ankles, then snaking upwards, parting your knees to allow for closer contact, twilight filling the sky.

Lifting and drawing you to the water by the waist, you rested intertwined, necking, eyes lingering on each other and on the minute changes in shadows and sparkle on irises as the sun rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	84. Avowal

Matt was visiting on Saturday. That Friday afternoon was peppered with thunder and Kylo wasn't going anywhere. Even after the trip, he remained glued to you, which you were loving. But Matt was going to be there. For the first time after fucking you. Twice. "Anxious" wasn't enough to describe the state you were trying to bury inside.

"Your brother Matt is coming over tomorrow for lunch," you attempted to sound indifferent, serving yourself and him of dairy free ice cream for the second time, chocolate and banana with chocolate chips, blessed was the internet sometimes.

You could feel his eyes on you and when you sat back down, you decided to simply look at him as well, feigning apathy and expecting him to have some sort of reaction.

He didn't, for a while. Then lowered his sight to his plate, regaining control of the spoon.

"Are we cooking?"

"No, he's bringing food. Thai. Not sure what dessert will be..."

The hulking man inhaled loudly and deeply, propping his forearms against the border of the table. That adrenaline brought by fear, both terrified and excited you.

"I can stop by that place that sells the muffins that don't taste like moldy cardboard. If you'd like," he suggested, still quite a neutral look upon his semblance.

"I would like that, thank you. Will you turn to me?" Awaiting for his head to pivot, which was immediately, your right hand cradled his soft jawline and you pecked those plump lips of his, quickly brushing nose tips twice. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," was resigned, but not angry.

Later that evening, you texted your friend, not wanting him to be caught off-guard and feel scared when seeing his triplet the following day.

_"Ren will be here."_

_"Should we cancel?"_

_"No, he's not going anywhere."_

_"Did he move to your place?"_

_"No. Kinda. I don't wanna talk about it through text, just come."_

_"Is there some kind of announcement to be made?"_

_"Matty. No, just come. Bring food. You saved the list I sent?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Double it."_

_"Okay ill text when I leave the restaurant."_

_"Perfect. Thank you, blondie. Good night."_

_"Good night shortcake."_

You closed the app, locked the screen, took a deep breath and set it to charge.

"Wanna go for a walk? I kinda need to... I don't know what I need to do, just thought of going for a walk up and down the street..." your eyes were low and searching for something, voice trailing off, Kylo staring, then looking over his shoulder and the couch's back to the kitchen clock.

"Okay, put clothes on," getting up from his seat, he pulled the band from his long hair, storing it around his wrist and walked over to your dresser, t-shirt and the only pair of blue jeans he owned making it over his legs, while you plucked underwear and dress you had worn only for a few minutes that week to get the mail and run your car's engine for a bit.

Sneakers on, lights and AC off and you both went out the door and down the stairs, feeling the warm waft of the night air hitting you all at once as soon as you were outside, looking in opposite directions for no longer than two seconds and immediately turning left, no real reason behind the choice.

More dry thunder far away.

The steps taken were slow, relaxed, street practically deserted at eleven thirty-seven p.m.

"Let's sleep in my place tomorrow."

"Can't we go on Monday?"

"No, we'll drive there tomorrow night."

 

*

 

The table was set for three people, Ren had placed the order online for the muffins earlier that morning and Matt was passing through the door with two plastic bags full of containers, appetizers, soups and main courses, setting everything on the counter and helping you throwing the fresh Thai basil into the broths to let them cook, while everything else was opened and displayed on the table.

"Going to pick up dessert, want anything else from anywhere?"

"Oh! Uh... No, nevermind," you waved it off.

"What is it?"

"No, no, it can wait till later, nevermind."

"Are you sure?" you nodded vigorously. "Matty? Anything?"

"Oh, no, I'm good."

"'Kay, be right back."

You and Matt chatted for the twelve minutes Ren was gone, lightheartedly, no mention of what had happened.

The three of you sat down to initiate the two-hour feast, tense at first, conversation flowing more naturally once the trivialities regarding food taste, restaurant comparisons and late Summer plans were past: Matt's _Moo Goo Gai Pan_ was a tad bland; what if you all tried those dishes in Thailand, how would it compare to the restaurant on the 5th with the 9th and the other one on Court with Amity; beach going wishes were expressed but no one seemed to have the strength to actually make plans pass from ideation to reality. Kylo and his triplet kept talking about Thailand, while you mulled about being broke - even jobs that catered to you by being online and keeping people interaction to a minimum were hard, due dates and schedules and guilt over letting people down and everything else. Ah, if you could simply write... But you were not coming up with the next Young Adult hit that would be turned into eight movie deals, that was for sure. There was no hope in you and no hope in your content. All too raw, not enough lies for public consumption.

The great Master grabbed the underside of your thigh, looping his long, strong arm in between your legs, later, on the couch, and while everyone kept talking, it was noticed like a blinding lamp in an interrogation room from the old detective or double agent movies.

Everyone remained seemingly at ease, reclined on the comfortable jewel-toned sofas of yours, despite the atomic bomb going off behind the blond's tight-lipped smile.

It was almost dinner time when Matt left with some leftovers, tugging the hair by your nape at the door and kissing your cheek and the top of your head, your fingers twisting on his graphic t-shirt and pulling as he turned, snapping the material back to his midsection, swiftly walking away from your front door.

Kylo cleaned and you packed your share of leftovers, watered your plants, changed your sheets, scrubbed the sinks and toilets. You were driving to his place about four hours later, after picking up two boxes of pads and one of tampons from the store to restock his bathroom.

On the second hour of that Sunday, you both lied naked in his bed, fitting your back against his chest, your hair tangled with his, phone in your hands.

"Can I take a photo?" you tried.

He knew you wouldn't post it.

"Yeah."

Stretching out your arm, not even bothering with how your face was squished against the mattress, right eye closed, you snapped the picture with difficulty, capturing this softened mountain of muscles behind your smaller physique, his left upper limb draped over your rib cage, extremity covered by your thigh, high up, but that you couldn't include in that angle. And the impossibility of encompassing how his leg sat between yours saddened you. You could almost see why those damn selfie sticks were popular. Almost.

Kylo peeped from behind your tresses and, as if he read your mind, took the mobile from your grip with the warm, sticky hand that rested by your entrance and elongated it ahead, pressing further against your back as he rolled slightly over you, dextral arm popping to the front from under your waist, squeezing your breasts, mouth sucking the skin on your shoulder and neck.

In the meantime, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Ceasing, he returned your phone and let you scroll through your camera roll, himself observing from the safe cover of your mane once again.

Two of the photos were shaky, lack of proper lighting not helping with the grainy look, but you liked the movement of them - unposed, though aware, real.

"I should film you one day..."

You chuckled.

"I'm not an actress."

"I wouldn't want you to act..." he whispered by your ear, tea rose lips closing on the lobe.

"... Maybe."

You bent the leg under you at the knee, lifting the foot up in the air, Ren taking it and pressing with his thumb along the arch, from toes to heel, massaging and allowing for the silence to take over, before interrupting it with simple questions that pestered him.

"Do you love Matt?"

"I do," came softly, yet without hesitation from your mouth.

"The same way he loves you?"

"No..."

"Do you feel guilty about it?"

He knew you.

And you just nodded.

"Turn to me." You obeyed, swiveling in his hold, both pairs of eyes searching the features before them. "Did you do anything?"

You blinked twice in rapid fire and swallowed, Kylo's nostrils immediately twitching twice as well, swallowing as if unconsciously mimicking.

"I wanted it," you started, your sight lowering to the constellations on his neck where they would remain, glancing upwards to his own pools of brown and hazel as they filled with liquid throughout your confession. "Out of vulnerability, perhaps, but I wanted it. I... really thought... you and I wouldn't be together anymore. I even doubted we would see or talk to each other anymore. After that day here, when you said you were going out with someone... And you were so..." your lower lip trembled, "dismissive and dry. I never lied to myself thinking you were sleeping with only me, but... you had never been that open about it and you actually called it a 'date' and... Then I realized I couldn't keep on doing that. I didn't want to. Because it didn't mean anything to you and it never would."

Your traits had scrunched and tensed and tears ran to the side of your face.

"I never went on that date. I wanted to prove to myself that you weren't as important as I felt. I was... consumed with the idea of kissing you for all these years... But I couldn't give into that. I thought it would be like accepting that I was worthy of you. And I'm not. I was an idiot, thinking that if I distracted myself with all these people, then it would be fine, you wouldn't be in my head all the time. But you still were and the walks of shame were more tortuous than anything. After that day, it all came crashing down, I finally saw that I had fucked up immensely, hurting you and myself. But _I_ deserved it. Haven't fucked anyone since then. I just didn't have the courage to... call you or go to your place sooner... I thought I had hurt you too much..."

The Alastor sobbed.

"You did. And maybe I'm weak for being here. I probably shouldn't have given in just because you kissed me. But we'd been fucking for four year-"

"Five."

"Five years... and we had never kissed before... I never exactly knew _why_ , I imagined a bunch of shit - that you were disgusted by it, you didn't like me enough, my breath was atrocious or you had some sort of trauma, maybe you wanted to keep our deal strictly on the professional side of it... Okay, 'professional' isn't quite the word here, but you know what I mean... Point is, no matter the reason, you _did_ have a reason not to kiss me. But you came to my house and..." you closed your eyes, taking a couple of breaths in, "it flashed through my mind to not let you in. I am so exhausted and feel like a worthless thing. Not an adult, not even a person. But I let you in and you kissed me. And I'm a fool. But you're a fool too. And I slept with Matty out of guilt and numbness and feeling unworthy of any good feeling and... I don't regret it. I love him, but not like that."

"Was it one time?"

"... Two times."

"When?"

"Ren..."

"Answer."

"Was one night and the following morning."

Closing his eyes, the man leaned his head back, your fingertips on his throat.

"Did you cum?"

"The first time."

He pushed you away, not feeling well. Kylo threw his legs over the border of the bed, rounded it and trod quickly into his bathroom as you sat up and watched him, hearing then the remaining contents of his stomach being vomited into the toilet. You scurried to pull his hair back, the huge body curved over the porcelain bowl, taking another turn and spitting the bitterness off his mouth once he was done, taking a leak while breaking down, flushing twice and rinsing his mouth under the cold running water on the sink, the pair of you retiring to your nest and falling sleep closely facing each other.

The following morning a mug slipped from his grasp in the sink after breakfast, falling less than four inches into it. He paused, took it in his hand, stared at it. That mug, a dining chair, the coral textured cardinal-colored vase that was on top of the table, all smashed on the ground while you ran to the laundry room right next to the kitchen and crouched by the wall, back to the front of the washing machine.

You were almost certain he wouldn't hit you.

When you couldn't hear it anymore, you got out of your hiding place and found Ren lying on the floor, halfway between the dinning area and where you were, shaking, with his face covered by his large paws. Quietly, you positioned yourself behind the fallen angel and embraced him.

At lunch, you finished the pumpkin muffins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, folks. Today there was going to be no chapter, as I had a dreadful week and had nothing inside me to publish, but, once again, in the middle of the night this came to be. And I did not mean for it to take this direction, didn't think she would tell Ren, but -gestures widly at it-
> 
> The visuals for this chapter:  
> Paleo ice cream: [chocolate banana ice cream recipe](http://tinyurl.com/ychyheuk)  
> Moo Goo Gai Pan: [here](http://tinyurl.com/yc6kqeej)  
> Ren's vase: [Sophie vase](http://tinyurl.com/y8hk6ond)  
> Muffins: [Paleo pumpkin chocolate swirl muffins](http://tinyurl.com/y6v42ncy)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	85. Lifeblood

"I-..." Kylo initiated, you looking at him, crow-colored locks trying to escape an oppressive hairband which ruled over the lustrous curls of his head. "Nothing."

You blinked.

He stared at his own hands, twirling the hem of his shirt, having returned from a shift earlier in the day where he subbed for the shōtōkai guy in the gym closer to his apartment.

You sighed, marking the page and closing _The Chimes: A Goblin Story of Some Bells that Rang an Old Year Out and a New Year In_ , for some reason always feeling the wish to read, eat and wear things out of Season.

"What is it?" The giant didn't look up at you, fidgeting then with the piercing in his tongue behind closed lips, smoothing his asymmetric neckline t-shirt, rocking slightly as if adjusting to his seat. "Just tell me, please."

That massive physique had a tender look.

"I want to drink from you."

You blinked again, squinting in puzzlement at the disclosure.

"I... went to the bathroom not long ago..."

"No..." he switched chairs, closer to your place at the head of his sturdy dinning table, "I want to feed from you."

Your eyebrows rose as you studied his pained, panicked face, silly images of vampirism from beloved classic films playing in your mind.

"I... might be too tired and out of it, or perhaps I was too into this narrative of eating tripe," you waved the short novel still in your grip, "but I'm not sure what you're telling me and I thought we were past that many years ago."

Kylo looked at your chest before slanting forth and reaching with his huge hands, gently squeezing your tits, his own brows lifting and seeking for your decipherment.

"Oh..." It was clear. "I never... lactated before..." You were aware of the obvious statement, but there was little room for proclamation, his paws moving from your breasts to your extremities. "Did you ever... engage in it?"

He shook his head.

"No. Did you?", his hands playfully bouncing your forearms.

"No. Have you been interested in it before or is this a spur of the moment thing? I mean... you like sucking on them, but..."

"I don't know. I've thought about it a lot before, but never... gaaave it much thooought? Sounds absurd. Doing it as it is, is comforting..."

Your eyes searched the table's edge for the next thoughts. At least you weren't the only only scattering for them.

"I have been interested in it for years, to be honest, but was, I don't know, afraid. Ashamed," you confided.

"Are you now?"

"No." He simply nodded, focusing on his preoccupied fingers, wrapping around your smaller wrists, smoothing over your palms, listening. "I have read a bit about inducing... But I recall it being a lot of work, like... a full time... co-mmit-mennnt..." More and more unsure about the words coming out of your mouth as they indeed came out, your heartbeat was nearing your throat, the subject tying up with other matters, issues that made you spiral down very quickly and very deeply.

He hummed in acknowledgement, staring at you from the corner of his lidded, melted chocolate eyes, then rose, pulled the laptop that rested on the opposite side of the dinning table and turned it on, whirling it in your direction and waiting for you to insert your password, opening your browser as he settled it between the both of you, dragging the chair closer to where you were perched.

An hour and ten minutes later, there were all kinds of browser tabs open on lactation, methods and testimonies, adult nursing relationships, graphics, anatomic illustrations and way too many advertising photos, forums and pornography. You spent about two hours totally on research, reading and exchanging thoughts. Eventually, you minimized everything, giving way to your background image that wasn't being registered by your fixed eyes at all. Kylo pushed the computer further onto the middle of the table.

"I can't do this." You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed on them until you saw stars, then reopened them. "I _want_ to do this, but I can't. You can't do it either," claims directed to the colossal quiet puppy, "not with me, not with someone who hasn't it already going. Neither of us could keep up with that schedule! I would want to skip a few times and then what? Go back and insist on it again? For how long? I- You can do it, you can find someone. I mean, look at the amount of women advertising for it! And all that was just in a couple of informative sites! I... want to. But I know I won't be able to."

His jaw was set, you could see the nervous flexing of his _masseters_. The nostrils on his Aquiline nose flared.

"I want it, but with you. I don't _have_ to have it. I don't want to search for someone else to do it with. I don't _need_ it. If I could have it, I wanted it to be with you. And I agree that I wouldn't have time nor the will to have such a set schedule outside of work and... everything... I-"

You jumped from the black olive leather chair and from your dumbfound state and walked to the sectional couch, gesturing for him to join you, sitting angled at each other. At that point you tried a different approach, delving into his psyche.

"Why... What did you intend to... achieve from nursing? What was your goal?"

He hesitated, contemplating his reasons, seemingly various, though sharing only what he believed best, for the time being.

"I wanted to taste you."

"That's all?"

"No... I wanted to feel close to you." His deep baritone voice was so small and naked you could cry.

"You don't feel close to me?" walking over glass, you risked scaring him or cutting yourself or both.

"It's... I don't know, I can't explain it. I guess I wanted to feel fully intimate with you. Doesn't even truly make sense," Ren tugged on the bottom seam of his straight cut and slightly distressed jeans.

"It doesn't have to, you know that." Your warm fingers softly settled on his, stilling them. "You know there's way more beyond mere reason."

Like feelings.

Needs.

"I don't want you to hate me," the plagued child admitted.

"And I don't want to disappoint you."

You sat silent, scrutinizing.

"I don't care if you can't do it."

" _I_ do. I wish I could give you that. I am so sorry you don't feel close to me."

"I do... I shouldn't have said anything..."

"No, Ren, you did well. We've known each other for so long... I know what's in your head, but I always want to know more, go deeper, so I can... I want to be in you. I want you to be pleased and comfortable and serene. I wanna help you, I _need_ to help you."

"You _do_ help me, so much. I'm not... I'm not close with anyone, and have never been, like I am with you. You get me. And I saw that right from the beginning. You don't judge me, because you also don't want to be judged, both for what we are and for all the practices other people would label as 'weird' and 'disgusting' and 'outrageous' and whatever else. They can't understand it, they are not equipped to. But that doesn't matter. And meeting you helped me see that and embrace it without beating myself for it," your left eyebrow twitched in ascension, "okay, without beating myself too much for it, same with you. I second-guess myself at times, but I know I don't have to censor anything I feel or think or want around you. Because you're the same. And having my mouth on you," Kylo seized your boobs once again, your left hand clasping his dextral elbow, "it's soothing. Enticing too. It's... I need you. I _always_ need you."

The titan leaned over your teary-eyed semblance, lightly parted lips locking with yours, a dab of pressure in an innocent kiss. He pulled your legs over his lap, tilting over as you reclined back onto a pillow, yearning more evident, sanguine lips sucking your delicate skin, tongue brushing against teeth, exploring and twirling with your own, the sodden melody mixed with the urgent whiffs evading your noses. You pulled away and gazed back at him.

"Aren't you lactose intolerant...?"

He cackled.

"No, _you_ are. I just choose not to have dairy."

"Huh. You do know that breast milk is considered dairy, right?"

Adorned, able arms were wrapped around your midsection, allowing him to support his weight on his _olecranons_.

"Yes, but..." Eyebrows knitted in an almost sulking pout, one hand snaking from underneath you and lowering your camisole's strap, fingering the lace on it, chin resting on your _sternum_.

"They're yours. They may be dry, but they're yours, Master Ren..."

He kissed along your left cup before pulling it down and freeing your breast, licking at it, mouthing and groping along, flicking your hardening nub. Your nails scrapped on his scalp, fingertips massaging his nape. Your sighs and his moans. The set of flushed, wet lips gaped wider, covering your whole _areola_ and drawing the nipple into his mouth, tongue pressing up, barbell massaging along when he suckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had inserted the tag for this chapter all the way back when I posted the first or second one. At last! :)
> 
> See what I see:  
> Ren's jeans: [these](http://tinyurl.com/y7zr6b37), but in black and let's mentally darken those threads as well, please.  
> Reader's camisole: [here](http://tinyurl.com/ybwh5v78)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	86. Pulchritudinous

Grabbing him by the hair, Kylo growled as he fucked hard into you.

"You' gonna make me bleed? Huh? You need to try harder. I can... b-barely feel you."

What a terrible, blatant lie. Only to spur him up further. You wanted him to split you open, make all that need for him ooze out of you, have him bathe in it. And all that pushing and pulling inside of you making you delirious, aching. Standing, the back of your knees hooked over his elbow pits, the only way you secured yourself to him was by fists full of his luscious hair while the leviathan pounded your pussy away.

"Uhhh... Fuckin' lyin' ssslut! Gon' make you-huh... bleed for a whole week."

He lumbered forth, letting you down to your wobbly feet but quickly turning you around and bending you over the back of your couch and lifting your hips, placing you at a better angle for his towering height, then entering you once again and snapping his hips against your ass, again and again and again, your sex throbbing in pain to the point that if you peed yourself right then you wouldn't have felt it nor been conscious of it at all. The scene didn't continue for much longer, Kylo at last removing his monstrous cock from within you and inspecting both his member and your hole for damage residue, a tiny tear at the apex of your entrance near the perineum bleeding. You couldn't move, thoroughly fucked, your entire body as soft as a cooked glass noodle. Feeling him touching your back, you slid down the Prussian blue sofa and let him carry you almost vertically against his chest to the bathroom, setting you down so you could use the toilet while he filled up the tub with tepid water for you to sit in. You bit your hand, feeling the urine burn like it was cauterizing the wound, yet with no said immediate mending.

After using some of the water to rinse himself, Kylo sat on the border of the bathtub as you lowered and braced yourself for a sharp superficial sting once sat. The fissure must have been a little deeper than your usual, the strain made to contain complaints in your throat and the ensuing hyperventilation enough to cause you to nearly faint. He held your hand in a greeting gesture, the large pad of his thumb smoothing over the back of your extremity. So simple, yet comforting.

Ren wanted to apologize, but he knew better - after all, he had only complied to your wishes. Instead, he waited until you had enough of a soaking and cleaning, helped you apply aloe to the tracing wounds his fingernails left under and over your thighs without realizing and followed you to bed, where you laid on your side and covered yourself with the sheet. Wasn't out of modesty or shame, but emotional solace. Filling the spot next to you and lying stomach down, his face was overpowered by pillow and hair, eyes directed at your face and the hand lazily resting on the side of your cheek, making it lift and puff, and as if you tried to hide. He sprung to his elbows, nuzzling your hand out of the way with his nose and gently pushed his thick lips onto yours, pecking you once and twice before slower, more invested kisses replaced them.

He tasted like mint. Balming.

An overpowering hand rested over your jaw, thumb smoothing over the delicate skin of your lower lip, snagging it down, you kissing the pad every so often.

"You're so fucked up," softly exited him, who drank your features in just as though he hadn't been soldered to you for the last month.

"You're so perfect," the _cliché_ spilled, in all its simplistic dopiness, as if you had no words to choose from, overwhelmed, only able to use a concept as relative as it was impossible.

Yet, if perfection could indeed be feasible, he would be it, in all his fallibilities and foibles and flaws.

You had had so many discussions about the concept, in different regards, both being perfectionists and never having enough, utterly unable to finish something, but only abandon it, forever unsatisfied with the newer, bigger, harder, cleaner, better stage of whatever it was, living the words of Paul Valéry.

Kylo could see it in your eyes, the words you weren't using, and he didn't fight them. He couldn't, for he wasn't hearing them - they weren't assaulting his mind, they were being fed to it. They didn't hurt, didn't make him hurt, quite the contrary.

The giant pulled the sheet over his own body, getting closer to you, head resting on the crook of your neck, the length of his regal nose brushing and rubbing slowly along your lower mandible.

You felt full, overflowing in aphonic tears, closemouthed cries and shallow, stuffy breaths, a kind of peace many wouldn't understand. Ephemeral, but there. Volatile, but yours. Recurrent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kids, careful with the sex you have. You might think it's hot and you can take it, but the amount of pain we can bare varies immensely from person to person. Also, the way we interpret sex is different, only WE, OURSELVES, know what's good and bad for our bodies and minds (in regards to opinionated folks). Live as you believe is best. Take care of yourself, as self-destructive as you may be. May sound contradicting, but it isn't, not if you know.
> 
> Three more chapters to go, before this comes to a temporary halt. Feeling a consuming, despairing anxiety over that. I won't stop writing, but I will stop posting for a while, give you guys and myself a break before the second installment starts coming out. 
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	87. Unbosoming

You softly pressed on the breaks, letting a younger couple cross the street, and pulled over into the sidewalk as you waited for the garage door to lift and grant you entry, pulling in and following the darkened claustrophobic ramp to the more ample parking. There was some construction going on inside the structure - the building management was finally expanding and each unit would soon have more parking slots. Not that the building had that many people, there were only eight apartments, three on the upper levels, first floor was parking and two small studios and the ground level was where they had put the heating system, electrical boards and whatever, but if anyone had visitors, it was quite the feat to find street parking, many people leaving their cars along your street to go into the stores and restaurants in the area. So you guessed it made sense, the building had unutilized space from the renovation and transformation from commercial lot to residential, might as well do something with it.

You shut the engine off, grabbed your bag and exited, locking the vehicle and making your way to the stairwell, nodding as acknowledgement to the neighbor who burst through the door, jogging to her car, happily chatting on her phone. Plopping your feet onto each step, you thought about your time spent with Matty that day, how funny he was, how easily flustered he would get, how committed and smart he sounded and never letting his permanent exhaustion show! Well, almost.

Second floor.

But you cherished the not so hyper moments too, you only wished he would trust you and open up. He seemed to retreat when it came to his not-so-good moments lately. Maybe it was your fault, having disappeared before.

Third floor.

Maybe he felt you wouldn't be there for him, after that. Or maybe it had nothing to do with you and you needed to stop being so self-centered. You turned the key in the lock and removed it, opening the door when someone grabbed you from behind and pushed you into your home, lifting you from the ground with your arms stuck at your sides, your legs kicking in every direction and upper limbs worthlessly trying to escape the iron grip, hearing your door being slammed shut and seeing the art along the forearm, engraved in your mind. He fell with you and on top of you onto the couch, your hair shrouding your vision. Nuzzling his face against yours, he spoke in a hushed tone:

"You don't scream..."

You didn't quite know what to answer. You saw it was him. But even before your brain registered that, your body reacted, but you didn't scream. And you didn't know why.

"What do you want?"

Kylo released you and sprung to his feet, standing there and looking at you. You sounded harsh and he had never have that question thrown at him coming from you. It was his turn to not know what to say.

You huffed through your nose as you sat up and walked around him and the coffee table to take off your sneakers, put your keys in their place and throw your bag to the chair close to your bed, undressing your jeans and socks. Still, he simply stood there, observing.

"Where did you go?"

"Out."

Dry.

"Where to?"

You sighed, walking to the kitchen.

"The park."

"What did you do at the park?"

"Got some air."

"Alone?", the titan's fingers fidgeted, thumbs pressing on the other digits, fists pulsating.

You put your hair up and browsed the contents of your fridge, took a cold bottle of water and closed it, moving to the pantry.

"...No."

"'No'... Who were you with?", his whole semblance scrunched in a mixture of pain and dread.

You decided for cereal, picking a plastic container from the counter's shelf and pouring some of it, closing the noisy bag inside the box. You pirouetted to him, palms on the countertop.

"Does it matter?"

"I'm just making conversation."

"Are you? Look at yourself," he was reddening and in a threatening stance, "what the fuck is going on?"

Suddenly he was walking to you and you automatically grabbed the cereal box and began walking back to the pantry. He caught up too quickly and forcefully pulled your arm back, twisting you to face him, your eyes leveled with his chest.

"'What the fuck is going on?' What the fuck is going on with you?! Aren't you allergic to this shit? Why do you even have it?", he snatched the cereal from your hands, throwing it into the kitchen, your eyes following the box that smashed against the wall, spilling all over, "why are you doing this to yourself? Why are you doing this to me?", he shook you, holding your upper arms.

"I'm not doing anything to you!"

Hunching over your short frame, he kissed you. For seven Mississippi. But you didn't count. And you didn't lift your sight to him.

"Get out."

"I'll clean up."

"Ren, get out."

You opened the pantry door once again and pulled the broom and the dustpan from the hooks on the closet door, walked to the mess and began sweeping. It took him a while to move. But eventually he did leave your place, your hands dropping all your were holding, feet taking you towards your bed and just curling up on the mattress. Quiet, at first. So many nonsensical thoughts running wild in your mind. What the fuck were you doing? Why did you treat the person you adored like that? Yelling into your pillow, your tears were freed and blinded by them you launched yourself at your purse and searched for your phone, thumbs too quick for accuracy, having to input your unlocking code three times before tapping his name and calling him. He was proud, what if he didn't answer? What if that was it? What if you had fucked up?

"..."

"Please come back here."

You never thought you would be this... weak? Dramatically unstable? Was that what you were being?

He remained in silence, then hung up.

"Nooooo! I need you! I need you...", falling to your knees, a wave of anxiety and fear was submerging you to the point of nausea, letting your cell slip from your hands that clasped tightly over your mouth, tears and snot oozing from you. It was too much in a way you never thought it would be.

You didn't hear the front door opening, only feeling his arms once again around you.

"I was outside your door... I can't leave you, I don't want to... You're a part of me," his nose was stuffy.

You turned to him and impelled his t-shirt up, his hands hooking on it and pulling it off, your hands then going to his jeans, him getting up on his feet and undoing them, while you took off your own t-shirt and underwear, still sitting on the ground, and yanking on his briefs as he removed his shoes, socks and stomped his pants off, fist pumping his hardening member. He crouched again, full lips on yours in desperation, crawling over you and spreading you wider, pushing his huge erection into your tight entrance, your whimpers and groans invading his mouth, feeling the piercing in his tongue on yours. Kylo began moving in and out of you, quickly increasing rhythm, his features burying in the curve of your neck. Your fingers sunk in the mess of his hair, pulling on it and directing him to face you.

"Ahhh... You... own me... Uhh," you blubbered, his hot breath hitting your chin, traits tensing further as he fucked you faster, left arm snaking under your waist and pulling you closer to him, right knee propping up for a better angle.

He didn't speak, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and mixing with leftover tears of yours, his hair away from his eyes by means of your hands.

"Are you close?", all he did was nod vigorously, "hmf, then cum in me. Ah... cum inside me..."

Your entire body was quaking from the force of his thrusts and he panted and seethed, moaning when an explosion of pleasure peaked, washing through his body and leaving him in spurts, going deep into you. He kissed you, languidly, tongue and teeth and wet lips.

You both crawled to the bed, dripping and leaking, slumping into the comfortable mattress next to each other, you on your side, him on his back.

That crisp, perfect line of his profile...

The contrasting softness of his jaw and gathering squish under it that showed and at times wrinkled when he was on his back or when he looked down at you...

You fought to not tell him you loved him.

"Ren?"

"Hm?"

By the next inhale, he turned his head slightly in your direction, the hooded, almond lamps opening, blinking, expectant.

"I love you."

You failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)  
> Any HCs related to Matty's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jpwddr6)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	88. Opstinatus

How were you spending your Friday evening? Lying face down on you bed, headphones over your ears playing nothing but slow, crinkly sounds and a six five, two hundred and forty-ish pound man crushing you as he lay still, back against yours, his bottom between your parted legs, covering your body. Had to be uncomfortable for him as it was for you - physically uncomfortable, yet emotionally mitigating - but he claimed it opened his hips in an odd way and helped him release tension he otherwise couldn't. Or couldn't, without actually engaging in a yoga workout. Fine by you. Your hips weren't being opened at all though, majority of the pressure his vast, heavy mass made being on your butt and along your back as well. You lifted your feet from the mattress and held them up, propped at the knee, Kylo taking them in his hands for lack of things to do while lying there. His thumbs started sinking into the ball of each foot and occasionally went in between your toes, separating them with minor strain. Every now and again you would jerk.

"Tickling..." was all you would say, eyes closed, stimulated ears and brain continuously reacting to the noises playing.

He pinched along your Achilles towards your calves and went over the area quite a few times, circling your ankles with his fingers once he felt you were giving in and your feet were about to plop down from their position, your entire body feeling like compressed gelatin.

Kylo calmly put your feet down as his torso rose, turning one eighty and lying on you again, chest then opposite your spine, some of his weight braced on his elbows by your rib cage, feeling his hips resting on your ass. From the nest your arms created, you asked:

"So what is this position opening?"

He smirked behind you, pulled the left padded conch from your ear, lips and tongue shifting the wetness in his mouth, low, soft clicks.

"It's going to open you, pretty soon..."

"Hmm, is it, now?" your right hand pulled the headset off and you paused the audio app on your phone, neck twisting towards the _chthonic_ god as much as your circumstances allowed.

"Mhm," his hands dug between your hip bones and the mattress, pulling your lower half tighter against him, "gon' open your ass..."

Rubbing the tapered tip of his nose along your left cheek, he nipped your jaw, holding your skin in between his teeth.

"No, you're not, because I didn't prepare for that..."

Kylo sighed through his nose and kissed your cheek.

"Tomorrow then," planting his wide palms on the low bed, he elevated his marbled physique from yours, "turn around."

You submitted, swiveling in place to face him and receiving his heftiness once again in between your legs, digits and fingernails lightly caressing his chest like brushstrokes on canvas, just as his thick, chapped lips laid on yours with soft smooches that stuck your lips together by the inner rim for fractions of seconds, the very apex of his tongue being felt on your bottom lip but never making it past the quick contact, his most regal nose digging in your cheek, septum ring tickling the infinitesimal vellum hairs. His mouth descended to your chest, nose nuzzling the expanse of your breasts, hand then taking one and squeezing slightly, while his mouth kissed, licked and sucked on it, repeating the exact same treatment for the exact same length of time, nuzzling the plain in between them and restoring his place, eye to eye with you. His creased eyelids were low, staring so intently to you, into you, an abandoned hand caressing your parted left thigh, high by his hips. The waves of obsidian hair were messily thrown to one side, cascading down his _collum_ and his right shoulder as if to rival fantastical mermen of pale skin and glistening eyes, the forevermore rogue, slim lock falling over his relaxed forehead.

He wanted to ask you what was it that made you look so in awe back at him. Forgetting about the eternal black hole of his thoughts about himself for a moment, he felt... right. There was so much veneration in your eyes and it inflamed him.

Just the previous day you had said you loved him and he hadn't been indifferent to it. His eyes had widened, the next inhale shaken, his skin had been on fire from fucking you and loving you, for he did love you, how he loved you! However, he didn't say it back, moved, shocked, afraid, stuck on not wanting to let you down while letting you down... You hadn't felt alone though, hadn't felt unrequited, having been pulled into his embrace as he kept staring right into your soul with eyes you wanted to get lost in forever, amidst the miniscule speckles that bled within each divergently colorful ring, blown pupils sucking you into the galaxies he held inside.

Kylo knew he had waited too long, but was uncertain if by his standards or the world's. Regardless, the animated Greek god sculpture was set on not delaying any longer, after almost a decade of idolatry masked as mere carnality, fighting himself, pondering, weighing options, considering all outcomes, driving himself mad behind closed walls, behind his mind's walls, he wasn't waiting any longer, Kylo decided.

Your core was searing, fusing with his, and as he looked at you, tresses splayed out underneath you, marks over your chest from the pillow you had leaned on before and a stray sequin sparkling wildly under the lamps that lit up your studio, scars and soft skin, dark days and flower-smelling ones, violence and serenity, he knew that was what you both were, whether in intervals or synchronously, and that was exactly what he wanted: you and him and him and you and whatever came from it.

Ren entered your warm, supple flesh, yet didn't move. He simply wanted to be in you, both dominating and allowing himself to be dominated, surrounded by the indestructible force you were, Shakti. Your lips connected over and over again, his muted words being corporeally mouthed into you, laced with kisses.

He was done being terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more.
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)


	89. Crux

Morning had almost past, when you forced yourself to shift from the not-quite-awoken-yet position you had adopted for what it felt like at least a couple of hours, gray day out, warm man in, still breathing deeply through his parted chapped lips, the shoulder scar angrier than usual, perhaps from sleeping positions, perhaps from sleepy scratching. The very tip of your middle finger grazed it, sensing its heat, giant taking a deep inhale prior to opening his slumber-crusted eyes, puffed eyelid hoods in the mornings creating a false monolid look that accentuated their slant, trivial details so crucial to your days.

Kylo rubbed the sand off his vision, then stared back at you, quiet, pouty, large dog barking somewhere. And again, your digit went over his dermis, that time over his eyebrow too, short forehead, tall nose. You looked so beautiful, admiring him like he could rival the _Krakatau_ , peace on the surface, war on the inside, a phenomenon as marvelous as it was destructive. He touched you, lifting himself on his right elbow, gently raking crooked lines over your back and side with neatly trimmed nails, raising goosebumps over your chest, arms and thighs, studying their texture with the pads of his digits after.

"Can I take you somewhere today? Please? Doesn't involve airports this time."

"Close by?"

"Five minutes walking."

"Crowded?"

"I hope not. At least the part I'm thinking about..."

"Outdoors?"

"Yes," he peeked towards the fourth large industrial window at the end of your studio that you'd sometimes keep unblocked so it would allow light indoors and help the smooth transition between unconscious to conscious state, "'M guessing it won't be too hot today..."

You pulled his face to you, kissing his lips, colossal male pushing himself closer to your frame and closing upper limbs tighter around you, left hand then massaging your hip, long, thick fingers squeezing the flesh of your butt with no systematic rhythm, simply as Kylo pleased, stroking, squishing, shaking and spanking as he felt fit, the knee you had on top lifting further for your foot to adjust behind his strong thigh, below his own glutes.

"Okay, you can take me to the park..."

A barely seen simper set on his disunited dark coral lips - after so much information, wasn't difficult to guess where he wanted to go. Your warm hand shimmied in between your bodies and tugged on the morning wood.

"Put it inside," he whispered before gently pecking your forehead, then fitting the bridge of his nose along your temple.

"No... Later."

You carried on with your action, languid, licking your palm, using your slick, and Kylo wondered if you would even want or need him at all after what he had planned to tell you.

A few more minutes on foot than the common "five" led you to Prospect Park, its Western entrance with humans and their young flowing in and out of it, large empty paw taking yours in your tension, opposite arm pressing the rolled up old weave throw he kept in his car, but had brought to wash in your apartment, mild weather with the sun hiding behind the occasional cloud that Monday afternoon.

As you strolled further into the green of the woods and away from the gray of the concrete, the traffic noise reduced and as you got to Lookout Hill, Kylo walked ahead in search of a good spot distant from the most obvious trails and set the blanket down.

By five thirty-seven you glanced at the time on your phone, noticing an increasing number of people and the breeze then nipping at your naked ankles. The pair of you had carried the books you were reading at the time, but barely studied more than a page, engrossed in sky-watching idleness, contemplation and conversation in respect to your work and his, tangling up with former trips and entertaining childhood stories.

"We ended up not going to the lake..." he commented, while you helped him fold up the wool throw.

"Next time. More people are coming now."

The brief walk home was interrupted by missing ingredient shopping for dinner and discussion about what to do with the raw cashews you had soaked overnight, settling on nothing more generic than "definitely dessert". Once in your domains, you scrolled through a bunch of recipes you had filed in one of the many food folders, with far too many subcategories, and took no time to find one that caught your attention, begging Kylo to go out into the world again and get dates.

"What do I get from this?"

"'Definitely dessert'..."

You stared at each other for half a minute, serious, suspicious, straining inside not to laugh, then he grabbed his keys and bolted out your door.

Half hour later and Ren entered the baking zone, muttering about the pit fruit being out of stock in two grocery stores and wanting to have that "definitely dessert", stripping on the way to the bathroom and showering while you at last could finish the first step, despite having prepared all you could while he was gone, remaining necessary ingredients having been combined together and set aside previously, as well as having rinsed the vegetables you knew the behemoth would be using to make a light dinner, shaking your head to yourself as you pulsed the mixture in the blender and thought about how fresh dinner would be and how much sweetness you would both gorge in after. Luckily, you were making the blueberry lime cheesecake as healthy as possible, with fruit and nuts and nothing that would make you unwell.

Able to assemble the entire dessert and place it in your fridge by the time the towering _inamorato_ was done arranging your plates, you kissed and thanked him, both for dinner and the extra shopping run, wet-haired hunk carrying the dishes to the dark walnut circular table, you trailing right behind him with silverware and a pitch of iced cucumber water, fetching two tall jungle green glasses on a second turn. The amazing smell of garlic shrimp put you in a good place and made your mouth water, he knew, and with a final squeeze of lemon over the seafood, you were both dying to eat.

A full vegan cheesecake was destroyed while watching the last season of the show you only played when tranquilly eating by yourself, despite not being alone. That was quick. And then you were down to the last six twenty-minute episodes, you and Kylo lightheartedly laughing at the comedy after two episodes where you couldn't help but cry.

He paused before the following episode begun, dragging his anatomy to the border of the Prussian blue linen couch to set your plate and his on the industrial coffee table, over the empty greater dish where the cheesecake once was.

"May we talk for a minute?"

Immediately, your heartbeat started to race. Just like that, you were drowning, panic attack in its embryo stage. And he knew, shaking his head as he maintained eye contact and held your smaller hands in his huge ones.

"No matter what phrase I would have used, they would all have the same effect and I'm sorry for that. It's a dreadful opening sentence, I am truly sorry. But I'd like to talk about something and... you can just listen. Would actually work better if you hear all I want to say..." Apprehensively, you blinked, decided to follow his suggestion, nervous and afraid, yet observing him going through the exact same feelings in front of you. Whatever it was, it seemed pressing. Perhaps it would bring him relief to say what he had to say. Perhaps it would make him even more unsettled. All you could do was, in fact, listen.

Ren had thought about what to say dozens, if not hundreds of times, but, in his mind, something always screamed to be added, as the months and years went by. However, he had made a decision and he had opened his mouth - there was no turning back. And you were there, with your hair up and the t-shirt that still had its bottom seam being slowly undone due to the ripped stitches, tiny hole then by the wide neckline, bleach spilled on it, expectant eyes directed at him, fearful, anxious, venerating.

His right hand smoothed over his mouth and jaw, prickling hairs from the sprouting beard, sight diverting to nowhere in specific for a couple of seconds, then returning to you.

"We've known each other for a while," his mind yelled at the poorest choice of words instantly, "a... long... whi-time." He decided to pause, clearing out his throat almost endearingly if it wasn't for the elephantine struggle, smiling to himself as he found his words on your old rugs. "You make it better. You are so flawed and yet... You make it right. Without even saying a word! You just have to be there! Or here..." he minutely gestured to your surroundings, "your presence means everything. You _know_ me, _truly_ know me. And you know what to do when things are bad, even seemingly being fragile, you carry me forward. All these years! You're part of me. You've been part of me for so long... And I don't want to be without you. I can't, I tried! I really did try. I am... so sorry for having hurt you, even more than I knew... Though... All this time that has gone by since we met, the years before that Halloween and the years since... They showed me you weren't just a crush, something that would be over after a while. You've given me so much of yourself... and you've accepted me and had the patience to know me like no one did. No one deserved... or _I_ didn't deserve... I'm... not good enough for them... Nor do I want to be. But I'm not good enough for you either. Yet... at times you make me feel like I am, your eyes... _say_ so much and for the longest time I didn't want to hear it. They make me _feel_ too much..." His thoughts came out sputtered, so much to communicate, so little ease. "This is a hard existence we have. I know I'm fortunate, I don't have to lose sleep over money, which makes it more comfortable. I know you do, but you're more fortunate than others as well - regardless, this is-I'm talking about us, so I'm not going to keep bringing up the rest of the world, because we already know how- that-..." you nodded vigorously in short movements, impelling him back to his point, "I'd like for _this_ to continue, for you to remain part of my life and me for... ever. I need you and I want you and it has only grown stronger over these eight years. You calm me down and you rile me up and... we're different from other people, 'the others', right? I _know_ you and I'm not blind or unaware - I know your dreams... You're... above material things. That... made it a little hard for me, because I like to give you things and see you well and... it's not that I never wanted more... I just thought I couldn't have more and didn't deserve to have more. Or you... I-... It's-... We overthink. You mull about things for a million years and I react hotheadedly and then chew on it forever. I have put an unquantifiable amount of thought over this and us and everything. A lot of it since the accident... I've never thanked you for being there for me and sticking around, even after I bailed on everyone, on you... You were right here for me when I was ready and... Thank you. You don't heal me, like I don't heal you, we both know that isn't for us... But I'm grateful for you and I can only hope I make a fraction for you of what you do for me..." Kylo squeezed your hands in his grip. "The other day, about being close to you? I wish you could understand how connected I feel to you! Your... words, your presence, your voice, your mind, your eyes... Your touch, your body... I want to be _in_ you. And I want you to be _in_ me. And I don't know how to-... I can't satisfy this need that is beyond me, it's greater than me, than anything! I have all this want and I only want you..." Ren stopped, redirecting his train of thought, relaxing the breathing that had become labored during his speech. He observed your face, playing with your extremities for the longest time, tips of fingers tickling your palms as he traced them and your digits, comparing sizes every time they stretched against each other, repeating the movements cyclically like ocean waves, 2:22 a.m. "Will you have my child?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking through 89 chapters (bothers me they're not 90). It was never meant to take this long, as it was never meant to be anything at all. It's been exactly a year today since I started posting this personal narrative dissimulated as fiction. Obviously, this is not the end, for I can't stop writing, though I will take a break and will stop posting for a while. The nauseating stress and panic attacks that precede each post need to cease for a while. In the meantime, I've started the following installment about a couple of months ago and have to try and rehash the responsibilities I left behind and hopefully refine this same work, removing canon and fandom names, yet never using the real ones, and prepare it to get out there, somewhere, one day.  
> I'll be gone till the beginning of next year. Seems like a long time, but time flies.  
> Till then, you can find/communicate with me [here](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/) and [here](http://justsoyeah.tumblr.com/) (I avoid Tumblr like the plague though).  
> Every comment was appreciated, every readership, treasured. We don't know each other, but you know me.
> 
>  
> 
> **★[Of You and Him - Two](https://tinyurl.com/y8xu93d8) ★**
> 
>  
> 
> The visuals for this final chapter:  
> Krakatau (or Krakatoa, erupting at night): [here](http://tinyurl.com/y833fopy)  
> Ren's blanket (mentioned in 2 other chapters, can't believe I never showed it): [here](http://tinyurl.com/y72et4my)  
> Food: [Spinach, Shrimp & Avocado Salad with Zesty Lemon Vinaigrette](http://tinyurl.com/yag63ayy) and [Blueberry Lime Cheesecake (Vegan/Gluten Free) recipe](http://tinyurl.com/y92lhz8k)  
> Reader's glasses: [here](http://tinyurl.com/y8pwko6s)
> 
> Any HCs related to Ren's physique, skills and further --> [here](http://tinyurl.com/jljdkpm)
> 
> [Patreon support](https://www.patreon.com/Filipa)   
>  [Instagram shenanigans](https://www.instagram.com/mother.of.legion/)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you kindly for taking time to read the stupidest thing ever. I'm trying.  
> So sorry if you don't have patience for people who aren't consistent updaters. It's a word now. And this is just a warning in case I disappear.  
> Remember that you're worth it, you're talented and loved.  
> <3


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